


The Autistic Son of Mine

by darkangel89



Series: The Autistic Series [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anorexia, Anorexic Sam Winchester, Autism, Autism Spectrum, Autistic Sam Winchester, Bottom Sam, Boys In Love, Brotherly Angst, Bulimia, Comfort/Angst, Confessions, Daddy Issues, Disabled Character, Disabled Sam Winchester, Eating Disorders, Fanart, Fanfiction, Father-Son Relationship, Fatherhood, Forbidden, Forbidden Love, Guilt, Holmes Brothers, M/M, My First Fanart, Non-Consensual Oral Sex, Non-Graphic Rape/Non-Con, Originally Posted on LiveJournal, Protective Dean Winchester, Protectiveness, Sad, Sad and Beautiful, Sad and Happy, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-12
Updated: 2018-08-16
Packaged: 2019-06-26 08:39:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 6
Words: 32,649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15659694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darkangel89/pseuds/darkangel89
Summary: Sam's a different kid, John knows that because he's nothing like Dean was.But he's not disabled. He can't be. But he is and John struggles to come to terms with it.





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this on Livejournal at first, 2 April 2012, but since I decided to leave that site, I want to post it here. Please leave a comment.

  
  
  
The night John Winchester became a single father to his two sons, the very same night he watched Mary burn out on the ceiling in Sammy’s nursery, he took the remains of what was left of his family to Pastor Jim's place to get a little peace and find answers as to what had really went down back in Lawrence, John was sure Jim knew about these things.  
  
He placed baby Sam in the child seat in the front of the car before he opened the backdoor and helped his four year old into the backseat. John kissed his forehead, ruffled his hair and whipped his tears away before he closed the door, then he took a minute or two to lean against the car to get his breathing over control.  
  
John had lost his wife, his two sons had lost their mother and the police put the blame on him. He hadn’t done anything but watch his beloved wife die on the ceiling in his youngest son’s room, then when the fire had started, he had placed Sam in Dean’s arms and with a last look at where his wife had been only a second ago, he took the run downstairs as well.  
  
But of course nobody would ever understand or believe him, wouldn’t even listen to the story because it was crazy even to his own ears and instead of waiting for the obvious - arrest and saying goodbye to his sons as he was sent to prison - he took them on the run out of the state as quickly as he could, he really couldn’t lose them too.  
  
Sam was hiccupping where he was in the child seat beside him and it was due to the silent tears he had shed when he had been startled awake by John lifting him up in sheer panic. John reached out a steady hand and stuck a finger in the baby’s mouth, it took him only two minutes to suckle himself to sleep.  
  
John left the finger there for longer than what was necessary, but it was a comfort for John to feel the tiny lips wrapped around his finger, knowing he could be a comfort for the boy as well. Every now and again, he looked in the review mirror to look at Dean, to see that he was still there and by the time he put his hand back on the steering wheel, Dean was fast asleep in the backseat.  
  
It took them three days of driving, two nightly stops in two different motels. If John had been alone, he’d probably just sleep in the car, but the fact that he had a baby in front and a child in the back reminded him that he needed to get a room. Family was more important and he’d all his life to look for revenge.  
  
Once parked outside Jim’s house, John lifted baby Sam up in his arms and the boy didn’t even make a noise, he just clung himself to John’s shirt with small baby hands and the wind that was made of it got John to realize he really needed a shower.  
  
Dean helped himself out, knew full well by the time how to unfasten the seatbelt and jumped out once the door was opened. He stretched a little and yawned, but he didn’t speak.  
  
Neither one of them did.  
  
Even before they reached the door, Jim was outside and hugged him to his chest which made Sam protest a little, but just a little and John kissed his soft hair in an apology.  
  
“I’ve bought some milk substitute for babies.” Jim said as he eyed the exhausted baby in John’s arms.  
  
“Good. He hasn’t been eating since..” John’s voice turned dark and hoarse and he stopped himself before he could finish, Jim didn’t look like he blamed him. "I tried to feed him a bottle of milk that a nice stranger gave us, but he didn't take it."  
  
Once they got inside the house, Dean whistled a little of impression, but he didn’t voice his thoughts. John first realized then that he hadn’t done that since the night Mary died and he shuddered, couldn’t really believe he hadn’t thought about it since Dean was his son and..  
  
He had been grieving.  
  
Well, John still didn’t see it as an excuse. But a reason. A lame assed one. But still. Once Jim warmed the milk up on the stove, Dean sat on the chair next to John and watched John feed his baby brother with a sad smile on his face, then he looked down at the table and said nothing.  
  
Jim and John exchanged worried looks over Dean’s head and with a silent discussion, a decision was made. They were about to stay there ‘til Dean was talking again, ‘til John had gotten a clue as to what had killed his wife and ‘til Sam was strong enough to be the baby he usually was.  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  
“Why’s he always crying like that?” Dean asked as he uncovered his ears and John didn’t knew how to answer.  
  
They were living in Mississippi for the moment, Dean was six years old and his first day at school was the next morning, and the boy claimed he wasn’t nervous and John believed him. But then there was also something called worry and John could see in the way Dean was moving that he was very much worried.  
  
Not by the actual event of starting first grade, not by classmates or the other simplest things on earth. No. Dean was worried about leaving Sammy and John knew why.  
  
The boys had developed a close bond of brotherhood right after Jim had opened his arms wide for them and by the time they left the Pastor’s home, Dean had taken way too much responsibility for his brother and even when John had ensured him he didn’t need to, Dean just waved him off and changed Sam’s diaper, feed him, played with him or whatever the hell he did when John tried to cut the cow.  
  
And Sam wasn’t an easy toddler, he was too stubborn for his own good, he didn’t speak, he got angry a lot of times and he could cry for hours without stop. And god knew he absolutely didn’t like some things. Like the color red, each and every time the color stood out, the boy froze and didn’t take a step closer to whatever it was that had the specific color on/in it and when John or Dean lifted him up to carry him past it, he exploded in a fit of rage.  
  
And he didn’t like normal food either, no, either it’d be salad, burgers or Dean’s home cooked Jambalaya. That or nothing. Sandwiches were okay, but no yoghurt. Bananas were accepted too, but no other fruit at all. And damn John if he had planned to do something and told the boys - like go shopping to this and that supermarket and shop - and skipped one because he’d realize later they didn’t need to, then Sam would turn on a show and they’d have to carry him out, legs kicking and teeth biting in.  
  
It hurt, it broke John’s heart and his pride faded a little more each time it happened, but he was just as stubborn as the boy, and he thought that mistakes were made to learn something of, even for kids.  
  
So instead of answering a question John had no answer to, he kissed the top of Dean’s head and tucked him into the bed before he turned the lamp off in the room and went to the kitchen. Sam had just quit crying and he’d be asleep for at least four hours before he started again and John took some alone time to clear his head.  
  
He sat down at the table in the kitchen with the journal he had gotten and wrote down the latest he had learned about the supernatural sonovabitches he was hunting, then he’d put himself to bed as well.  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  
Responsibility turned into over-protectiveness by the time Sam turned four and nothing in his behaviors had changed. He was talking now, a little, voice sounded like an echo of someone else’s and John didn’t understand it and he sure as hell didn’t like the confused look on Sam’s face when he had placed the birthday cake in front of the boy.  
  
Before Mary had died, Dean had been outgoing, smart and loud, like most kids were at the age of four. Sam on the other hand didn’t speak his own words, he repeated what he had heard over and over again and it really got to John’s nerves.  
  
And when he was loud and spoke his mind freely, he stuttered and forgot words to keep the sentence bearable and understandable. When he got mad, he didn’t really scream his lungs out like Dean had used to do, instead he cried for hours, just like he had done when he had been a toddler.  
  
They had toys that had followed them ever since they left Lawrence and Dean were playing happily with the toy soldiers, the cars and the Lego, made believable sounds and funny gestures with the toys while Sam sat quietly and lined the toys in the same looking line all the time, again and again.  
  
John had taken a few hours off just to watch that behavior in his youngest son, to figure out what was going on in Sam’s head as he lined up the cars and the Lego’s in silence. What he realized these hours was that Sammy wasn’t thinking. In fact, he was counting. If you just looked at the kid where he sat on the floor by the toys, you’d only see a boy that piled the cars in a line.  
  
But John had taken his time that day, to really observe his youngest son and there was no mistaking to it, with nobody to teach him, Sam had picked up the numbers of following as he lined two cars in the same color beside one another. Three different cars in another line beneath it. And above the first two, he had counted out four.  
  
His chubby fingers touched each car, one by one as his hazel eyes looked at what his fingers were doing. And if he did wrong, he just turned back to the first car and started it all over again. In silence. Always in silence. But that was the day John understood his boy would turn out to become a smart man once he grew up.  
  
And he couldn’t have been prouder.  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  
Around three weeks later, John had given Dean a key to the house since he figured he was old enough for it, - if he could take care of Sam on a daily basis, he could take care of a damn key too - and he had given Dean permission to get both himself and Sam breakfast whenever John slept late instead of waking him, Dean was happy as hell.  
  
John should’ve figured it wouldn’t turn out as great as he had hoped, not with Sam and his odd behaviors around. The first morning they tried it out, John had actually been awake but let Dean take responsibility since he seemed to want that, and it had worked out just fine. The second had as well.  
  
The fifth time however, John had waken up as usual, the house quiet and calm, just as any other morning when Dean had had responsibility, so he hadn’t been worried. But when he got into the kitchen and noticed just what Sam was eating, John’s good morning mood turned bad.  
  
“He’s not eating that!” He said in a stern voice as he took the plate from Sam without warning as he stared at Dean. “Don’t you get he can’t eat ice cream as breakfast?!”  
  
Dean looked like he had been hit, then shock showed on his face before his emotions finally landed on anger as he got up from the table, John noticed in a brief moment that Sam started to rock himself to and fro, a habit he had picked up a few months ago, then Dean was in his face, short, childish, but real anger on his face.  
  
“He won’t eat anything else.” Dean said, took a step closer to the fridge, then he turned full glare back at John. “And don’t say he’s eating sandwiches okay, because that’s not even close to enough!”  
  
John had never heard Dean’s voice so high before and instead of calming down to calm him down in return like any other parent would’ve done, John felt his anger pour out of him and he banged his hand into the wall behind him which made Dean jump a little, but the angry expression on his face didn’t fade.  
  
“He’s my son as well as you are, Dean. I decide what’s allowed to eat around here, no matter if I’m around or not. My youngest won’t eat ice cream as breakfast, is that clear?!” Before he could ask again, Dean shook his head.  
  
“No! It’s not, damn it!” He’s eight years old and it’s probably John’s own fault anyway, but that doesn’t change the fact that he didn’t like to hear the curse word. “He’s four years old, dad! He doesn’t like anything else and if you don’t believe me, try feeding him anything else for breakfast.”  
  
John turned to where Sam was supposed to sit in a blind rage that quickly faded away as he found the chair empty and his youngest son was beneath the table, covering his ears and rocking to and fro. John cursed under his breath, then cursed again because he cursed, and then he turned around and left the kitchen without a second look beneath the table.  
  
_**Fuck**_.  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  
The first time he heard the word disability, he snapped. Because Sam might’ve been different, but he wasn’t stupid and he sure as hell wasn’t disabled. John was sitting in Bobby’s kitchen as Sam and Dean was outside, Dean tried to get Sam to play ball with him but the kid just touched the cars in the junkyard and didn’t pay any attention to his brother whatsoever.  
  
“I’m not saying he’s stupid, John. He’s just.. too different. It can’t just be him being slower than Dean, it has to b..” John cut him off right there because damn, he sure as hell didn’t want to listen to that bullshit anymore.  
  
“It doesn’t have to be anything at all.” John said firmly as he stood up from the chair, staring Bobby down but the other man didn’t budge. “He’s different, he’s not unfit, he’s not incompetent.. You want me to go on?!” John asked and the man in front of him shook his head sadly. “He’s not having a disability.”  
  
“Then I suggest you take him to a doctor to prove it before he grows up to realize he’s not like the other boys his age.” Bobby said, sounded just as stubborn and stern as John himself in the matter and John threw his head back and laughed.  
  
“He’s not your son.” John said after he stopped laughing, then he headed to the door in three gigantic steps. “You don’t even have kids.” He said, then he hurried outside and slammed the door behind him.  
  
It stung, his heart stung by the words he had said just a few seconds ago, but he couldn’t stay there and listen to the crap Bobby had said, because Sam was different but John decided he wasn’t disabled. His son could count, and without anyone teaching him. That had to be proof enough.  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  
Sam jumped up and down, clapped his hands together loudly as John stepped into the kitchen and the boy turned to him and his smile didn’t fade and neither did his enthusiasm and John found himself frowning down at the five year old before him because he hadn’t ever seen Sam like that before.  
  
“What’s up, kiddo?” He asked as he sat down with a cup of coffee and Sam smiled brightly and stepped up beside him, careful not to touch and John didn’t reach out either.  
  
“…moon.” Sam mumbled and his voice sounded different than any other boy at five years old, more childish and yet so.. empty.  
  
“Moon? Yeah, what’s up with it?” He asked and Sam seemed to form a sentence in his head because he made a small grimace John was sure he wasn’t even aware of making.  
  
“Yeah..” Sam said and smiled, then opened his mouth to add; “..moon in TV.”  
  
So, the boy had seen a moon on TV and that’s what made him so upbeat and happy? John didn’t get it. Sam was his own person for sure, but that didn’t change the fact that John compared him to how Dean had been when he had been in Sam’s age.  
  
“Tell me about it.” John said and it looked like Sam was about to break down in tears any minute and John wanted to avoid that at any cost. “You know what? Never mind. You go back looking at the moon on the TV and I’ll head upstairs, okay?”  
  
He didn’t even wait for an answer as he headed up the stairs, he really couldn’t deal with Sam’s behavior that day and he shut out the clench his heart did in his chest and turned out the crying from downstairs as he buried himself in the journal ‘til Dean came home and started a fight.  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  
Another behavior Sam had from the day he turned two was something that had to be done anyway every and each morning and it was extremely painful for both of them. John dreaded the mornings the most because that was the time where you’d dress yourself in clothes. Sam seemed to hate clothes. Or at least having to get dressed.  
  
John had tried his hardest, with tears and sweat, to get Sam to learn how to dress himself so that they both could avoid the moments of torment every morning, but the time the event of dressing had only led Sam into a fit of anger as he tried to dress himself because it got all wrong. Jeans could end up on the head and underwear around one arm, sweater/T-shirt on each leg and it was just a mess and Sam got frustrated.  
  
That practical morning was no difference in the matter, everyone had to get dressed because there was no time to spill and John went into Sam’s room by eight and the boy was already awake and sitting on the bed, rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. Once their eyes met, Sam looked panicked, frustrated and sad because he knew what was coming and both of them disliked it.  
  
“You picked out clothes yesterday?” John asked as every other morning and Sam nodded. “Good boy.” He said and picked the underwear off the chair and went stand before Sam.  
  
Sam never made eye contact and when he mistakenly did, he quickly looked elsewhere to avoid looking him in the eyes. At first it had been annoying as hell for John to witness it and he had thought Sam did it only to upset him further. But by the time Sam exploded in a fit of tears when John had forced the boy to look at him, he understood it wasn’t on purpose and he never made Sam look him in the eye again.  
  
John didn’t understand Sam, he didn’t like Sam‘s behaviors, sometimes it angered him and more often than not it made him think everything was hopeless when it came to his youngest son, but he tried, because he had seen the boy grew from a baby to a chubby seven year old boy, Sam was his son and John loved him no matter what.  
  
But it just took so much time from him, the time he should’ve put revenge on Mary’s killer, and that just made him doubt Sam’s behaviors even more. Did his son have a disability? Was he just different as John decided he was? Or was he neither of those things and just too damn stubborn for his own good? John wasn’t sure and it made him angry and upset.  
  
But at the moment he focused on dressing his struggling son, forced the T-shirt on over his head and Sam screamed in an empty voice and clawed at John’s clothed leg and just as the T-shirt was on, Sam attacked his hand with his teeth and it hurt like a sonovabitch.  
  
“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” John swore and to his big surprise and disliking, Sam repeated him. “Ey, stop it!” John barked out and Sam stopped moving for a second before he started to struggle again.  
  
When the clothes finally were in place, Sam was crying hysterically and John was bleeding and sweating like a drunk pig. And like every other morning, Dean had made breakfast for the three of them and he was watching Sam without a word as they ate and John didn’t have the strength to tell him to stop worrying.  
  
Because deep down, John knew this wasn’t normal. He just didn’t want to admit it out loud yet.  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  
Dean had been home for three days from school since he had been having a nasty case of a cold and they were in the grocery store when John’s cell-phone went off in his pocket and without looking at the screen, he answered the call.  
  
“Winchester.”  
  
“John?” A femalish voice asked on the other line and John frowned. “This is Eva Larsson, I’m Sam’s math teacher. He has been bullied and he’s taking it pretty hard, I think it’s time you pick him up.” The teacher said and John cursed under his breath as he slammed the phone closed.  
  
They left the grocery cart in the store and headed outside, without asking any questions, Dean sat down in the front seat with a frown and John could sense the tension but didn’t say anything. By the time they reached the school, Dean’s frown turned deeper but he stayed quiet.  
  
The kids didn’t stop to play on the yard as he passed by them, but he could see that the guys were admiring the Impala from a fair distance and John grinned as he headed inside the building where Sam was supposed to be safe during the hours he was there.  
  
John walked directly to the office he knew way too well and opened the door without knocking. Sam was sitting on the floor with a heavy book in his lap and John cleared his throat three times before Sam became aware he was there without even looking up at him.  
  
“Can you head down to the car and I’ll be there in a few?” John said and Sam nodded, but kept on reading, he didn’t get up and he didn’t put the book down and John sighed deeply.  
  
Sam was often like that, he answered yes to a lot of questions, but then he didn’t do what he had been asked to and it was just so damn annoying, John was about to pull his hair off but decided against it since he didn’t want to make a scene in front of the teacher.  
  
“Did you hear what I said, kid? I told you to go down to the car, Dean’s already down there.” John said a little harsher than he intended to and Sam tensed, slowly put the book down, then he got up on limps that seemed unwilling to move.  
  
It took almost two minutes for the boy to leave the room, John turned to the window and kept his eyes on his watch and then, after half a minute, Sam opened the doors and stepped outside, it took him more than half a minute to cross the schoolyard and then, when he finally was at the car, John turned back to the teacher.  
  
“This can’t happen again. He’s supposed to be save.” John said as he crossed the room to stand at the door, a habit he had taken upon after the years of a hunter. “We’re leaving town, I’m putting him in a new school. Again.”  
  
The teacher seemed to shrink under his stare but John didn’t care, Sam wasn’t like other kids, he knew that much and he had made sure the teachers knew it too to keep Sam safe. They had promised they would, but there he was again, for the fourth time that month, the same bullying story and it got the best out of John.  
  
“It’d be a lot better for all of us, Sam included, if he gets a proper diagnosis.” The teacher said as she stood up from the chair and she was just half a head shorter than him and god, wasn’t he tired of these words. “From my own experiences and watching Sam during class, I can almost surely tell you he’s autistic..”  
  
John shook his head and left the room without a respond. His son wasn’t disabled, Sam wasn’t autistic. He just couldn’t be. But as John headed outside the building and took in the scene of shocked kids and a loud cry of frustration and anger, John had second thoughts.  
  
He ran across the schoolyard, the kids moved out of his way in what seemed to be slow motion, when he finally reached the car, he gently told Sam to stop, even if he was anything but calm. Sam didn’t however and Dean looked scared and panicked and guilty and John wanted to bark out at him, demand to knew what had been said, but Sam was pressing his hand into his forehead, hard and by the look on his face, it hurt.  
  
John grabbed his hand and told him to stop, harsher that time, Sam only shook his head and raised the other hand to press it into his other side. John grabbed that hand as well, pulled Sam close and held him until he calmed down enough to stop hurt himself. Once he did, John made one of the biggest mistakes of his life as he said;  
  
“I want you to talk more so the kids won’t tease you or hurt you. Understand?!” He asked in as calm voice as he could mange and Sam nodded his head but didn’t say anything.  
  
It took another few minutes before John let go of the boy who had started to struggle to get free and when he let go of him, Sam huffed so that his bangs blow up, Dean opened the backseat and Sam sat down and slammed the door closed.  
  
John decided to take a serious talk to Dean later, they needed to get out of town first. Once they found a motel a few states over, John opened a beer for himself and a soda for Dean and sat the boy down in front of him, Sam was sleeping in one of the two beds.  
  
“Tell me what got him to burst this time.” John said and didn’t put any blame into his voice, he just kept it natural and quiet so as not to wake Sam.  
  
Dean ducked his head and a blush of guilt and shame crept up along his cheeks. “I was worried and I kinda got out of hand with it.” He whispered and John nodded in understanding.  
  
“You touched him?” He asked and when Dean shook his head, John raised his eyebrows.  
  
“I totally lased out on him, I didn’t mean to, I just.. I’m sorry, Sir.” Dean said, voice hoarse with emotions and he looked so miserable and so young and innocent.  
  
“You have to know that it’s fully normal for you to get frustrated at him, Dean. You are, after all, his big brother.” John said and Dean sighed and put his chin in his palm. “But next time, don’t yell, okay?” John said and Dean nodded, face still written in shame.  
  
“What’s wrong with him, dad?” Dean asked after a few minutes of silence and John shook his head.  
  
“Nothing, Dean, absolutely nothing.” He said and when Dean opened his mouth to protest, John waved a dismissive hand at him. “We’re not talking about this.” He said and Dean looked stubborn and angry for half a second, then he just looked tired.  
  
When Dean was done doing his nightly rituals, John watched him put himself in the bigger bed and they both knew why they shared a bed instead of Dean and Sam, because Sam would’ve a fit if he woke up with someone touching him.  
  
John turned off the main light and after half an hour, he thought Dean had fallen asleep, so he picked up the journal and was a little startled when Dean’s sleepy voice said in a yet so stubborn voice;  
  
“I still love him. You should do too.”  
  
And John knew he was right. He just needed some time. Was that too much to ask for?


	2. 2

  
  
It took a couple of weeks for John to realize his youngest son wasn’t speaking. It wasn’t the usual, empty voice that greeted him every morning that missed words and were incomplete, it was a heavy silence that could scare a dead man’s high away.  
  
And the unnatural thing about it all was; Sam didn’t even make the smallest of noises, he didn’t sigh, nor did he laugh out loud. And how he figured it all out wasn’t because Dean told him, he hadn’t said anything about Sam’s silence and it was probably John’s own fault anyway, because he was Sam’s dad and he should’ve seen it. But he hadn’t.  
  
He had been driving the Impala to a new town after he had finished a hunt and the boys were yet again going to start a new school and Sam had needed new clothes. Something John dreaded highly was to take Sam along on a shopping tour in the city. That always ended in chaos because Sam needed strict routines and directions as where they were going exactly and John would be damned if he changed it just a small tiny bit.  
  
But the need of clothes were bigger than the fear of stares of annoyance and mumbled words from complete strangers, and John decided it was time to just go for it, had been trying to avoid it for too long already. So one Sunday, the day before the boys started the new school in mid-term, John sat down beside his son, still unaware of the silence that was met each and every time someone spoke to the boy.  
  
“Hi kiddo, I thought we could’ve a day together, go shopping for new clothes.” John said, used the same words and voice as he had on Dean as the boy had been in Sam’s age and Sam looked up from the heavy book on the table before him.  
  
His eyes were wild, panicked and wide and John could already sense the outbreak of angry spits going through the boy any second now and he’d everything to avoid that, so he put on a smile and smiled even wider as Sam looked at his mouth.  
  
“There’s nothing to worry about. I’ve checked the stores already and we’re going to Ohio’s best clothes for cool school boys, Unix, it’s just by the end of the building. Then you’ll need a pair of shoes too and the shoe store is named Belox Shoes and Pearls and it’s just beside Unix.” John said and watched as his boy worked it over in his head silenly, then Sam nodded down at the table in agreement. “I also thought we could go find some pizza for me and a salad for you.”  
  
Salad, yep, that was way better than pizza if you asked Sam and John knew it way too well. Something sparked in Sam’s eyes at that, and that was a unusual sight and it made John grin, because usually, Sam’s eyes were either empty or full of misery and confusion. And to see something in the deep hazel made John believe again, if only for a second, that he could actually handle this.  
  
Whatever _this_ was that Sam seemed to struggle with, John was sure at the moment that he could deal with it.  
  
“You like the idea of that?” John asked and after a few too long seconds, Sam nodded and looked somewhere past his shoulder and it didn’t bother John, not anymore.  
  
Sam was eight, he was big enough to go alone and follow him where they headed at. Well, at least he should’ve been able to. But John knew better and when they finally got outside the house they were renting for however long it’d take to get the sonovabitch he was hunting, he grabbed Sam’s hand.  
  
The boy tensed up, got rigid and ducked his head as he watched his own feet move and John didn’t comment on it, it’d take a few minutes, then Sam would accept it. And yeah, John never thought he’d have to deal with this, with a son that liked to run out in the traffic and no bothering to look where he was going, but it had became a nasty habit of being aware of what he was supposed to do in situations like that.  
  
Sam tried for a few minutes to struggle free, to take off in the other direction and pull John with him, John whoever never let him, he kept walking in a straight line and ignored the people that was staring at them and made faces, then the boy calmed down and looked at the cars that stood parked by the side of the street they were walking on.  
  
They didn’t need the Impala for this, because the stores were just around the corner - it was a really small town after all - and when he pointed to the building with the stores and told Sam that was the one building, it took his son almost a minute to look up and to the direction as to where his finger pointed.  
  
When they stepped into Unix, John gaped at the atmosphere in the room, because the walls were painted black, the shells were white and there was black wind chimes with white skulls hanging everywhere from the ceiling. A girl with green hair that was standing up for what looked like miles walked up to them and she had three holes in her lower lip, a nose ring and a pearl between her eyebrows, John eyed her with suspicion while Sam gaped at her appearence.  
  
“Can I help you with anything, Sir?” She asked and eyed him back just as openly and she was frowning in amusement.  
  
“Christo!” John mumbled under his breath and nothing happened, the smile on the girl grew an inch.  
  
“Ah, kinky.” She said, then she looked at where Sam was standing, touching the wind chimes so they made some noise and her smile turned real before she turned back to John. “So, can I help ya?”  
  
After a few seconds of hesitating, John shrugged his shoulders and told her about Sam, just to make sure she knew exactly what was coming. She just waved him off with a smile as John told her that Sam might be a little difficult to work with and that he’d help him instead, but she just waved him off and walked straight to Sam where he was, checking out the other workers that looked just like her, just in different hair-colors, tattoos and piercings, the style was the same, hardcore.  
  
He watched from afar, but he could still hear and see everything that went on and about, John found himself very surprised that Sam actually walked after her - eyes downcast - into the changing room and John walked there too after a while to keep a close eye so that his son wouldn’t freak out.  
  
Sam didn’t.  
  
Then when Sam was dressed in black jeans, grey and green shirt and a cap on his head that to John’s extremely shock had turned itself green - or the hair that was - and he looked way older than eight. But Sam looked happy and John couldn’t help but smile as well because it had been too damn long since he had seen a real smile on his youngest son’s face.  
  
And that’s when it hit him. He turned to look at Sam who was now rocking from side to side beside him, waiting quietly for him to notice and John did. Not only did he notice his son standing a arm-length beside him as he turned, but he also noticed the silence that was coming from Sam. And it was unnerving and not fun and John opened his mouth to ask, but closed it again with a frown because he knew Sam wouldn’t answer him. Weeks. It had been weeks and it was John's own damn fault. He should’ve noticed, but he hadn’t. And why the hell hadn’t Dean told him?  
  
  
_‘I still love him. You should do too.'_  
  
  
The words echoed in John’s mind as he paid for the clothes, didn’t even notice how much they cost him, he just repeated the echo of Dean’s voice in his head over and over again. Sam was different. Dean loved him no matter what. John did too, he just didn’t get it, didn’t want to and now he had ruined everything by letting it pass him by. He should’ve noticed, but he hadn’t.  
  
And instead of putting all the blame on himself, John pushed his problems and issues and thoughts into the bottle of whisky as they got home after they bought shoes and had a quiet, awkward lunch together. Dean met them at the door and John could see the wide, excited smile he put on as he saw Sam’s hair, then he said;  
  
“You look fuckin' awesome, Sammy.” And Sam all but glared at him.  
  
_**Glared**_. That was one of the many things John had never seen Sam do before. And he did it right there. But instead of saying anything, he just looked elsewhere and was rocking again. John sighed deeply, kicked his boots off and when he headed into the kitchen, he heard Dean’s footsteps just behind him.  
  
When John poured up a glass to himself, Dean opened his mouth to protest, but John couldn’t take it at the moment and slammed the bottle down on the corner of the sink and when he looked at Dean, he understood the boy got the hint, but the stubborn face let him knew it wasn’t gonna be let off so easily and John knew it already as he poured up a second glass and turned his back to his oldest.  
  
Then the footsteps headed farther away and John sighed and poured himself yet another glass, then he put the bottle away, head cleared and a little groggy, he made his way to the living room to take a nap.  
  
Later that night, when he woke up with a slight headache and a pumping heart of guilt, he was wrapped in a blanket and Dean sat on the rocking chair, watching him like he was some show on the television.  
  
“What’s up?” John asked instead of thanking him for taking way too much of a responsibility than he should’ve to.  
  
“I talked to Jim this afternoon. I think it’s time you stop treating Sam like this and see what can be done instead. Jim said you needed guidance, and he‘s your son, not mine.” Dean, his thirteen year old teenage boy sounded like a man in his older forties and it hurt more than John would ever admit out loud.  
  
“I know he’s mine, damn it!” John said and threw his head back on the couch with a throaty sigh that seemed to echo around in the quiet room. “He’s just a little different, Dean, he’s just..” Dean cleared his throat and interrupted him.  
  
“No, he’s not. I talked to a guy at my school that has a sister that’s very much alike Sam in behavior and once he saw Sam across the schoolyard, he told me that my brother’s autistic.” John jerked his head up at that practical word, but Dean quickly added in a high voice; “He just needed one look dad, one look and he could name it. Don’t you think it’d be easier for all of us if Sam sees a doctor or something?”  
  
John looked down at his hands that were resting in his lap and he observed them, millimeter for millimeter, nail for nail and the silence grew heavier and tenser between them the longer he kept quiet. John knew he was unfair and for once in his life, he pulled his own collar and became a man. And he was sober enough to remember not to regret it as he told Dean to get Sam, then they took the car to Jim’s.  
  
And the road to understanding and acceptance started, even if it’d take John at least a year before he contacted a doctor, it started when they settled into the car half an hour later.  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  
He had been out on a hunt, and it hadn’t went too well, so he went home - Jim’s house had became a steady home to the Winchesters after they moved there a little more than a year ago - and he had called to make sure they’d take care of Sam so the boy didn’t need to see him in the shape he was in.  
  
But when he stumbled through the door, the first thing he could see was bare, big feet and looking up the thin body, John shuddered in pain as he clenched his hand even tighter to the wound at his side and when he finally reached Sammy’s face with his eyes, John groaned in frustration and horror as he saw the shocked face of his youngest son.  
  
Ten, he’d be ten in a few weeks. God, time went too quickly sometimes. And then in a flinch made out of slow motion, the boy took a clumsy step backwards and John shouted for whoever was in the house as well, because he knew there was no way they could’ve left him on his own and footsteps was heard from the stairs and Dean entered the hallway as well.  
  
Everything went so fast, maybe it was the blood pouring out of him, maybe it was the scared look his youngest son had on his innocent face, maybe it was both of those things. Because first thing John could see was Sam’s face made out of shock and fear, then Dean was there too to take care of Sam and then everything snapped and John groaned in pain.  
  
Sam backed away from his brother, John observed his every move in silence, eyes wide and fear written all over his face, then there was tears and no voice, no words, but screams. Sam screamed as Dean tried to grab him to stop it, to stop what was gonna get Sam to snap even further and that small movement Dean did to grip his brother’s hand was all it took.  
  
Ten, he’d be ten in a few weeks. And John watched as his baby pressed his body against the wall, away from Dean and then Jim came out to the hall as well and tried to help John away from the room but John couldn’t walk away, he couldn’t just walk away and scare the boy even more. His mind dizzy and his hands bloody, body shaky and then there was a loud bang in the room, too loud for it to be okay and John snapped his head to where his son threw his head against the wall.  
  
Another bang.  
  
Then the room grew heavily quiet.  
  
And John sobbed - _he actually sobbed_ \- then he grabbed Jim’s shirt and pulled him close. “I told you to take care of him before I got here, damn it!” John said and threw the man across the room and before he could say anything else, darkness caught his sight and he fell to the floor.  
  
A few hours later he woke in the hospital and the first thing he asked about was Sammy. Jim grabbed his chest and pulled him down in the bed again when John tried to get out of the damn bed to go find him since Sam had been hurt as well and if he didn’t find him..  
  
“He’s fine, Johnny. It was just a little too much for him to see you like that.” The Pastor said, then he stuffed one hand down his jeans pocket and pulled out a piece of paper. “The doctor said to give you this. It’s a number to a specialist of autism.”  
  
“But..” Jim pushed the piece of paper into his hand and squeezed it.  
  
“It’s time.”  
  
And John couldn’t do anything else but agree.  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  
“He can talk?” The therapist asked and looked at Sam with a smile before she looked at John.  
  
John raised his eyebrows and nodded, then he shook his head and cleared his throat. “Why don’t you ask him? He can answer questions even if he’s not voicing them out loud anymore.”  
  
The therapist - Nina - smiled brightly and that was around the time John realized the woman had tested him to see how he’d respond to that, if he’d even give a respond at all. Well shit, but his son wasn’t stupid, he was just different, autistic.  
  
That word was still hard to both voice and think and Nina had said John would’ve a hard time accepting the fact that he had a son with a disability since he had just come to terms with it and the main road was still long and very curvy.  
  
The therapist talked a little more to Sam, asked him a few easy questions and Sam shook his head and nodded, like he always did, he understood the questions that were asked and sometimes he frowned and shrugged one shoulder and John surpressed a smile at that, because it was something Sam had picked up from Dean and it was a proof he understood that it meant both ’ _maybe_ ’ and ’ _whatever_ ’ and it’d be weird if John of all people didn’t see the humor in that one.  
  
“Go play with the toys down there while I talk to your daddy, Sam.” Tina said in a calm but steady voice and Sam frowned, John couldn’t help but laugh a little at that and Nina joined him. “Well, go read a book then.”  
  
And by the word book, Sam got up from the chair, went to the bookshelf and chose the biggest book he could possible find there, looked on the backside of it, then he frowned and put it back. It took almost five minutes before Sam finally found a book he seemed okay with and then he sat down on the floor, facing the wall with the book in his lap, legs crossed - as always.  
  
“So,” Nina placed her hands in her lap and looked him in the eye with a small smile on her face. “did you see what I did there?”  
  
John frowned a little because he didn’t really get it. Nina was young, in her mid-thirty maybe, and the room was colorful and it was a wonder Sam hadn’t freaked yet by the color red. But then again, it had been ages since Sam reacted badly to a color, red included and John could only see that as a small step to the right direction.  
  
“No, not exactly.” He said honestly and leaned back in his chair and looked at where Sam was sitting with his back to them and sighed a little.  
  
“I told him to go.” She said and mimicked his position on her own chair and smiled when he raised his eyebrows at her. “I didn’t ask.”  
  
“What do you mean?” John asked and Nina’s smile turned into understanding, but no pity.  
  
“Autistic children doesn’t really understand a polite requests.” She said, then she laughed quietly as he frowned in confusion at her. “Okay, how about this; How do you tell Sam to do what you need him to do?”  
  
What the.. Oh.. _oh_. Yeah, he got it now, and that explained a lot of questions and filled a lot of holes. He had _asked_ Sam to head down to the Impala, he had _asked_ Sam to fill up the bath, he had _asked_ Sam to do whatever, and Sam hadn’t ever done what he had been **asked**. Because Sam saw it as a question and he had simply answered it by a nod. Yep, John got it now.  
  
“That’s..” John shifted uncomfortably in his chair, then he cleared his throat before he tried again; “That never crossed my mind before. I always thought he was just stubborn.”  
  
And didn’t he feel like a crap headed father about it? Yeah, he did. Guiltily, he looked over at where Sam sat again, the boy seemed to be in a new light and John’s heart clenched. He loved him, deeply, and if he had seen it before, if he had wanted to see it before, maybe Sam would‘ve been talking now and maybe..  
  
“That’s a normal reaction for a parent in denial of their child being autistic. You don’t need to be guilty, John, you didn’t wanna see it, so you simply didn’t.” Nina said and looked over her shoulder at where Sam was and she smiled.  
  
They talked some more about Sam’s childhood, what he felt about moving around, - he cut in the lie of being a mechanic, she believed him - how he had reacted when they moved into Jim’s house and how his reaction had been when he finally understood they were there to stay.  
  
He told her about Dean, about the protectiveness and the bond the brothers seemed to share and Nina ensured him it usually was that way for the healthy child in the family to be extremely overprotective and nearly even cruel to outsiders who teased the sibling with disabilities. It made sense to John, but he knew it went deeper than that even if he’d never talk about it aloud.  
  
“I asked one of my colleagues if he could help me throughout the diagnostic status on Sam since he’s male as well and he has been working here a lot longer than me.” She said and John nodded thoughtfully.  
  
“He doesn’t like to meet new people so often.” He said after a few minutes and she smiled knowingly at him.  
  
Four months later, Sam had an diagnosis. He had high functional autism (even called mild-staged) but he was locked deeply in his shell. And it’d take much work from all of them to get him out of there. John decided not to tell him. At least not yet.  
  
Dean whoever got to know and he just shrugged his shoulders and ruffled Sam’s hair on the way outside the room, like he didn’t care and if John was honest, he probably didn’t. Sam had always been the way he was and Dean loved him no matter what.  
  
John did too.  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  
Dean started the football team when he turned fifteen and the first match was behind the corner of the next day and there wasn’t much the boy was worried about, but John could definitely see that he was about the match and Sam also seemed to notice a change in his brother, because he got into more fits - autistic tantrum and self -injurious behaviors - he wasn’t wild, but he bruised himself and sometimes he knocked himself out with one or more fists to his head.  
  
Dean and Jim and the doctors of course were the only one that really saw and understood just what those things made John feel, because he never talked about it, but when Sam had a fit, he did everything in his powers to stop it before it got ugly and hurt Sam more than what the kid could take.  
  
Ten and a half years old and yet he wasn’t speaking, nor was he writing things down to communicate, so the fits often grew intense and the missing words on Sam’s part welled over and he exploded. John often pleaded with Sam for him to speak, to just open up, he pleaded and cried and threatened and pleaded again, but Sam never did.  
  
It was like he was mute. Although John knew he wasn’t. somewhere in there, in his boy, was a voice hiding, words of a smart ten year old that wanted out. He just didn’t get what kept him quiet and it broke his heart.  
  
That day, the day before the football match, Dean was so nervous that he had started to stutter. Sam really didn’t like that. At first, John didn’t realize it, neither did anyone else. But when it was time to grab some lunch, Sammy had a extreme fit and it scared all of them, even John.  
  
“You’r’r’re going toto the match tomomrrow to cheer me onn, right Sam?” That’s how it started.  
  
And Sam looked at Dean’s mouth, then he dropped his head to the table and hit it against the hard wooden surface two times, hard. John was quickly up off his own chair but Sam was too quick and he clawed his arm so it started to bleed, then he was also up and off his chair and slammed his head into the wall behind him, once.  
  
John grabbed at his hands, tried to get a proper hold of them, but there was nothing he could do as Sam struggled free and hit his tiny little fist into his chest, doubled over and did it again. That’s when John heard it, the crack of bone breaking.  
  
But that didn’t stop Sam. When he was in these kind of fits, no pain in the world could stop him from hurting himself. Jim reached around John and handed him the scarf. John hated it, he really did, but he had no other choice. He took the scarf in his own mouth as he focused to get his hands onto Sam’s and when he had them pushed against the wall, the boy screamed and tried to come free and his breath heaved and it sounded forced and it really had to hurt.  
  
But John didn’t focus on anything else than the hands in the matter of time, because he knew that it’d only take a few seconds and Sam would struggle out of his hold again. John was stronger, alright, but Sam had his own way of getting out, so instead of worrying about the broken rib, he quickly turned Sam around and tied his hands behind his back with the scarf.  
  
Mild autism the doctors had said and John took his time to catch his breath after he had tied Sam to the spot and he couldn’t believe how they could possible give him the mild autism card, because Sam was difficult to work with, he was quiet and he didn’t like changes. How could any of that be mild?  
  
Then when the panic and fear of the situation subsided, Sam started to cry silently. Yet again silent. It was only one way the boy communicated, and that was by screaming wordlessly when he had his fits. John turned Sam around again so he’d be facing him, and tried to whip the tears from Sam’s cheeks, but the boy snapped his head to the other side, away from him and squeezed his eyes shut.  
  
Sam’s chest was turning a nasty kind of blue and John could hear Dean curse behind him. With hands tied behind his back, John led Sam out to the car and they took the road to the hospital, Jim called the therapists to tell them they were on the way to the ER.  
  
Dean was in the backseat with Sam, John could see the need in Dean’s eyes and sighed. There would always be a need in Dean’s eyes as he watched his little brother and John knew that. A need to sooth, to calm, to reassure and to touch.  
  
_Especially to touch._  
  
But if any of them touched Sam, he’d freak out and at the moment, they all knew it wasn’t worth it. Sam needed his time to come around about touches, because the therapists had informed them that intimate touches, a hug or just a small squeeze to the shoulder felt a lot more different to autistic people than what it felt to healthy, normal people.  
  
And they knew that when Sam was ready, he’d take the first step to a hug or a handshake or whatever, they just needed to remind themselves not to pressure him into it.  
  
And to show what being intimate meant without actually touching him, but by being intimate with one another. Both John and Dean saw it as a difficulty, because they butted heads more often than not, they fought almost every time they were alone in a room and it was only getting worse.  
  
But they did it. For Sam’s sake. To show him what it meant. John looked in the review mirror and smiled sadly, Sam was breathing heavily and by the look on his face, he was in a lot of pain and Dean’s need shone all over his face and it made John feel helpless.  
  
The boy got painkillers, had an X-ray that showed he had a broken rib, and then he got a bandage around his chest to prevent the pain to expand. The therapist spoke to Sam, asked him questions and then they talked some to Dean and John, then they finally the doc wrote a prescription for anxiety medication that’d perhaps calm the tantrums and easy Sam’s mind, but they were reminded that it wasn’t going to just go away.  
  
And they knew it already. But John would do anything to see his youngest son break through the shell he was in and if medication was a small help, then they’d at least try it.  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  
John had been home for two days after a big hunt in California and as he made his way up the stairs, he heard the ragged breaths and he quickened his speed and just about collided with a small body that was rigid and very much naked, T-shirt and boxers, that were all the boy was wearing and he was hitting himself and in order to do so when they were standing that close, he hit John too.  
  
John grabbed his wrists, ignored the way Sam twisted and struggled and just about shoved him up against the wall, arms high above his head and John could see that his youngest son was horrified, scared and panicked. Sam was crying, fat tears rolled down his cheeks and small grunts of protest made it’s way past his lips as he tried to get himself off the wall, John pushed a little harder and the boy looked up at him with wide eyes.  
  
“Sam! Fuckin’ cut it out!” Sam blinked a few times, tensed up for a few seconds, then he took a deep breath and started to rock himself, a sign he was trying to calm himself down.  
  
After almost two minutes of breathing, John sensed he was calm enough so he loosened his grip of his wrists, then he tried to whip the tears away but Sam turned his head away from him and he shivered. John dropped his hands to his sides with a sigh.  
  
“Tell me what happened.” He ordered but he knew he wouldn’t get an answer.  
  
Sam first looked confused, dropped his eyes to the floor, to observe his feet and toes that he was moving, then his expression turned frustrated as he opened his mouth and John held his breath as he waited, then Sam closed it again and sighed in what John had learned was a frustration sound.  
  
“Yes.” It almost went unheard, but John heard it clear as day because he had waited for it and yet it took him by surprise. “No. Pee in bed.”  
  
Sam looked like he was in pain, and he had to be, John figured, because talking after three years had to hurt like hell. Then Sam seemed to disappear into himself a little, rocking to and fro a little harder. Any other time, John would’ve been pissed off that Sam had peed in the bed at eleven years of age, but at the moment, he could only think about Sam. Talking. Sam was talking. Yippee.  
  
Instead of waiting for his son to talk some more, John headed to Sam and Dean’s room instead, to change the sheets. What he found on the bed however, wasn’t pee. No, Sam was eleven years old. He had autism. But he was still growing and probably he had had his first wet dream that night to wake up to a wet bed.  
  
John couldn’t help the laugh that escaped him at the thought of it, but just a second later, the laugh got trapped in his throat and he grew guilty instead. He hadn’t thought of giving Sam the talk, because well, Sam was Sam and John hadn’t thought it’d be necessarily. Well, guess he had guessed wrong.  
  
He changed the sheets in the bed however, then he went back to Sam, made sure the boy heard his footsteps so he wouldn’t startle him. Then he stood before Sam and smiled and Sam looked up at his mouth and gaped a little, his mouth going into a ‘o’ and his eyes widened in shock. He had probably been waiting to get yelled at.  
  
“You did not pee your bed, Sam.” John told him and Sam looked down at the floor and sighed.  
  
He looked confused for a moment, then angry. It took Sam around two minutes to look up at him again and John had learned to be patiently, even if it sometimes were extremely difficult, he had learned to because Sam didn’t need to be pressured more than he already was and John knew that, so he didn’t say anything until Sam looked at his mouth again.  
  
“You had your first wet dream, boy. Which means you’ll soon be a man.” John said and Sam frowned a little in confusion.  
  
He looked desperate and confused and John wanted to shake him and tell him not to worry about it anymore, but instead he just took a deep breath and calmed himself the hell down. Sam was already freaked, he really didn’t want the kid to have a fit. And Sam was talking again, so that was a clear sign of improvement and yet they had a long way left to go. But it was a start.  
  
“Get into the bathroom and I’ll get there soon.” John told him and Sam did what he was told.  
  
Sam was eleven years old and yet he couldn’t dress, undress or shower himself. It was a struggle, but most times it was Dean who did it, or Jim, because John wasn’t there often and when he was, he really wanted to avoid fighting with Sam over things like that. It wasn’t like they were really fighting, but the showers and the dressing included touches and well, it often ended with Sam in tears and John covered in bite marks and red claw marks that’d hurt for days.  
  
When he finally walked into the bathroom, the shower wasn’t running and Sam was still dressed - as usual. John turned on the shower and let the water run as he undressed Sam, careful not to touch skin because it’d bring Sam into pain or whatever and John really didn’t want that.  
  
When Sam was undressed and ready, John turned around and shut the shower off, grabbed a hold of Sam’s waist as he helped the boy into the tub and helped him sit down. Sam’s legs were growing and they had always been weak and clumsy, so it was better this way than to let the boy trip over his own limbs and watch him hurt himself more than he already had.  
  
His skin was abused, from the chest down to the tips of his toes. Most days, John tried to ignore the bruises, but at the moment he couldn’t because he was showering Sammy, and Sam abused himself so much he had wounds and cuts and bruises all over his body, it really didn’t look good.  
  
John turned on the shower, tilted the water away from Sam, he knew he didn’t like it, had showered him enough times to knew what to do, and adjusted the warmth and the volume on the shower jet, then he started at Sam’s feet and watched as Sam watched the water hit his feet and slowly up his ankles.  
  
When he let the water shower Sam’s hair after almost five minutes, Sam squeezed his eyes shut but didn’t protest. When it was all done, John toweled Sam’s hair, it’s impossible to get it dry that quickly since the boy had really damn long hair, but he took his time like every other time he did this, and Sam really seemed to enjoy it because it wasn’t a touch from skin to skin and by the time John helped Sam stand up in the tub, Sam was smiling softly.  
  
He toweled the boy down, but gave the towel to Sam and turned around to give him some privacy. One part he had taught Sam was that his penis was only his to touch ‘til he wanted someone his own age to touch it. That’s the only sex talk they’ve had, because no matter what, but John was not stupid, he knew Sam was at a higher risk to get raped/molested by some stranger because of his disability and to avoid that, he taught Sam that part.  
  
When Sam was done, John combed his hair and he knew the boy loved that, because he always got this very silly wickedly smile on his face whenever someone combed it, brushed it and it was fun to see Sam like that, so relaxed and okay with the world around him, because it wasn’t often.  
  
After a few minutes, they walked into Sam and Dean’s room to get some new clothes on, and that was always a challenge of pain for both of them. Mostly it was Dean who dressed Sam nowadays, but Dean wasn’t there at the moment and neither was Jim, so John took the matter into his own hands. By the time the T-shirt was over his head, Sam was already crying and pleading with him to stop.  
  
Without discussion, Sam took a hold around John’s back and John bent down to get Sam’s feet into the stiff fabric of the jeans, and first John heard the sob that escaped Sam, then he felt that he was about to fall over and to prevent the boy to fall, he took a tight grip of Sam’s hips to steady him and Sam shouted out in pain and surprise and John quietly reassured him he was okay.  
  
When the dressing was finally over and done, they had been in the bedroom to dress Sam for over one and a half hour. Sam pressed three fingers down on one special spot on his clothed leg and John knew he was forming a new bruise over another bruise and he wanted to hold him, yell at him, just fuckin’ stop him. Sam was vibrating and crying and John did something he hadn’t ever let himself do in front of Sam, he began to cry.  
  
Sam looked up at him then with wide, shocked eyes and John whipped at his tears but with no luck whatsoever, because fat tears just spilled over again and again and he shook his head at Sam.  
  
“I’m so sorry, son.” He said in a hoarse voice and Sam looked him in the eye for a second, but quickly turned them down and looked at the floor with a deep frown on his face.  
  
Not wanting to scare or upset his youngest further, John got up from the bed and walked out of the room and quietly shut the door closed behind him, not wanting to startle him. He leaned his head against the door for a few seconds to catch himself, to gain back some control and that’s when he heard the mumbled whisper and his heart clenched tightly in his chest.  
  
_“Pee in bed.”_  
  
John went downstairs and sat in the kitchen when Dean came home from a friend and at first, Dean didn’t notice the tension in the room, but when he grabbed a soda for himself and turned to face him, he frowned and John smiled tiredly.  
  
“What the fuck happened?!” Dean’s voice was high and John wasn’t surprised.  
  
They were always fighting nowadays, if not about school and hunting, then about Sammy and his autism. Sam was on the top of Dean’s list of loved things in his life and John couldn’t blame him, because Dean had grown up to take care of his brother and if there was anyone to be blamed for it, it was John himself.  
  
“He had his first wet dream.” John said and Dean choked on his soda and it took a few seconds before he turned back to John with a small smile on his face.  
  
“Really? I bet it freaked him the hell out.” And John laughed at that and nodded.  
  
“You could say that.” He mumbled and turned the page of the newspaper he hadn’t even read. “Anyway, I think you should talk to him about things.”  
  
Dean just shrugged and without a word, he went upstairs and John knew it’d be done before the evening came and that was good. And he should’ve been the one to tell Sam these things. He just didn’t knew how to use the words right so Sam would understand. John knew Dean would, he always got Sam better than anyone else and Sam understood him in return. That was just who they were.  
  
And no, he didn’t tell Dean about Sam talking. Because he knew he’d figure it out on his own.


	3. 3

The handholding was creeping John the hell out, not because it wasn’t good to see Sam doing progress, because he was prouder than anyone about that. But Sam was eleven years old, he shouldn’t want to hold hands with his brother every damn chance he got and still there he was, in the diner, holding his brothers hand and both boys ignored the stares the strangers sent their way.  
  
John whoever didn’t. he just couldn’t ignore it.. Because the outsiders probably thought his sons were a young gay couple and that.. wasn’t okay. would never be. John had nothing against gay people, he just didn’t want people thinking they were in love when in fact they were brothers.  
  
Sam would probably take a step back in his progression if John confronted him about how it looked for other people. Dean on the other hand was one he could possible, _hopefully_ , talk to about it without much trouble. Well, guess that was not exactly how it turned out.  
  
“Dean, son, you can’t just hold his hand in public and expect people not to take it the wrong way.” John started a morning when he was alone in the house with his oldest son.  
  
Sam had willingly gone to church with Jim to see how it was for him to work there. Oh right, it was on a summer break so it didn’t harm Sam’s schoolwork. The church was one of the places were Sam was actually very calm and hadn’t been in a nervous fit there, not even once. Jim had gotten him a own bible and Sam read it every night before going to bed.  
  
John wasn’t sure if Sam believed in the stuff written in the heavy book, or if the words - as any other book - helped Sam learn how to communicate better. John had no idea, and he knew he wouldn’t get an answer if he asked, so he simply didn’t.  
  
“Dude! Does it look like I give a shit?” Dean snapped right back, eyes glowed in anger and John sighed and he just wanted Dean to see it the way he saw it. “And look, how many times haven’t we wanted him to open up, to actually take the step?! Now when he has, why push him back?”  
  
“People might think you molest him..” Dean got up from the chair and paced the room, mumbling things to himself for a small period of time, then he turned back to John.  
  
“No, they wouldn’t. And if they do, they don’t get it.” Dean said and got his bowl into the sink and rinsed it.  
  
“But he’s your brother. And he’s autistic.” John tried to defend himself but to no success as Dean turned to stare at him with angry eyes.  
  
If it had been anyone else, a stranger or a teacher or even one of the therapists, they’d say Dean had a point and that he was extremely protective of his brother. But John wasn’t just anyone, he wasn’t a stranger or a therapist, he was a father and he had seen the desire in Dean’s eyes way too many times to deny it anymore.  
  
Dean was fifteen, about to turn sixteen, his hormones mixed together with an unhealthy dose of possessiveness toward his little brother, and John wasn’t blind but neither was he perfect and it just got kinda much. He had seen it for years, the way Dean looked at his brother when he thought nobody paid attention, but John always did, _because he had to_.  
  
And now he had to take matter into his own hands. If Dean wasn’t willing to see it the way John saw it, then fine. But he had to at least honor Sam’s innocence and by that he got up from his own chair, walked to stand at arm-length in front of his oldest son and he gave him a once over before he stared him in the eye with a stern look, Dean didn’t back down and John wasn’t surprised.  
  
“Just don’t do anything you might regret later.” John said, took a deep breath, then he turned and walked away.  
  
He had no other choice, he couldn’t stop the things that went through Dean’s head when he was with his brother, but he could at least be honest with him, tell him that yeah, John, the big bad wolf, knew about it and would hunt his ass if he ever tried anything.  
  
Dean didn’t talk to him for over a month after that. But at least he wasn’t holding Sam’s hand in public anymore. At least not when John was there with them. And that was proof enough the boy got what he had said.  
  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  
The day Sam turned twelve, the boy had three angry tantrums before breakfast and John wondered if birthdays weren’t way too overrated but Dean had insisted and now they were at the kitchen table, Sam rocked on his chair and Jim got the cake out of the fridge. When Sam saw the cake, saw that it was Jim who placed it in front of him, his tears stopped and he looked more confused than angry.  
  
“No cake?” His voice was hoarse and shaky from the crying, but the words were right. “Daddy.”  
  
John had a hard time understanding his son, he would be a liar if he said he hadn’t, and he ended up looking just as confused as Sam. He witnessed a weird exchange of quick eye contact between his two sons and it looked so surreal that it made John just the more confused. Then out of the blue, Dean started to laugh and Jim took a seat at the table as well, looked amused.  
  
“He wants to know if it’s you who made the cake.” Dean said when he calmed down and looked at John with raised eyebrows and John frowned.  
  
“Uh, no. Jim did.” He said slowly, then blinked and looked at his youngest who was smiling down at the table. “Why?”  
  
“Daddy’s cake..” That probably missed a word or more, because Sam frowned a little, but the smile didn’t fade. “Ew.” He said then and stuck his tongue out.  
  
John couldn’t help but laugh at that. Sam had autism. He was twelve. And he had done some hell of a progress. But he wasn’t outgoing, might never be, but he had came through the gape of chaos and his sentence of speech made greater progress every day.  
  
“Well, it’s not mine.” John said in an amused voice when he calmed down. “So you can eat it without worrying to get food poising.”  
  
And the rest of the day were okay. No more fights, no more anger, just laughter and happy faces. It was Sam’s birthday after all. And birthdays weren’t overrated.  
  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  
“Sam’s taking forever to get ready every morning.” Dean bitched as they made their way through the woods. “Isn’t it time we got our own car? I got my driver license last year and I’m turning sixteen for real next week.”  
  
John didn’t have time to answer as he felt himself  getting swung up in the mid-January air and it looked like the trees opened up for him to threw him in the right direction of somewhere - anywhere - and that’s the reason why he shouldn’t take Dean on hunts, because the boy were never focused enough on the target and at the moment, John was in the air and damn, Dean was screaming like a fuckin’ girl somewhere beneath him.  
  
He was thrown through the tress ’til he finally collided with a tree and blacked out. When he came to again a short while later, the creature was dead by Dean’s feet and the blood dripped down the boy’s knife. John slowly got up on shaky legs, then he slapped Dean on the back of the head.  
  
“Never distract me like that again boy, or I should kick your ass instead.” John barked out and Dean opened his mouth, but then closed it again and nodded in agreement.  
  
“Sorry.” He said quietly as they made their way back to the car and John rolled his eyes, because he knew there was more to it. “But I’m serious..” And John laughed the adrenaline out of himself.  
  
“I know you are.” John said and unlocked the Impala and slid into the driver seat and waited for Dean to follow, when the passenger door slammed closed, he added; “We’ll see if I can make a deal with Bobby or something.”  
  
But that wasn’t for Dean’s benefit. Or well, it was, but not exactly. A week later, the evening before Dean turned sixteen, John took the boys out to the garage, blindfolded Dean and told Sam to led him to his surprise, which the boy did without protest.  
  
When the blindfold came off and the blanket that held the car hidden was on the floor, Dean had tears in his eyes and Sam looked confused. Then there was a lot of hugging and claps on the backs and John made Dean promise to never ever hunt again.  
  
Dean didn’t and John could go back being undistracted. It was a good deal.  
  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  
It started with Sam losing his grip on the plate and it smashed to pieces. Then it just went on, for hours, he tripped over his own feet, he made quiet protests under his breath and John couldn’t keep his calm and patient anymore and he snapped. He sent Sam upstairs, then he forced Dean into the living room, the boy already pissed at him for shoving Sam up the stairs and John just lost it.  
  
“You’ve no idea how it is for me to watch him like that. I’m his fuckin’ father!” John said in a harsh voice and Dean’s eyes glowed with anger.  
  
The older Dean got, the harder it was for them to keep themselves calm in front of one another. Dean was eighteen at the moment, almost an adult and yet he acted like a damn child whenever they fought. Well, that wasn’t true, but John didn’t care.  
  
“And he’s growing! That’s the fuck it!” Dean said and John reminded him about language in reflex and Dean all but snapped as well. “You keep reminding me about that, but you should really wash your own mouth with soup sometimes too.”  
  
And the screaming started around there, insults, defensive actions and John could see that Dean tried to keep his voice quiet even if he hissed every little word out and John slammed his fist into the wall beside him, skin broke and blood appeared, but he didn’t give a damn, all he cared about was to get the frustration out.  
  
Jim stepped into the kitchen right after that and tried to stop them, to hush them down, to make peace between them, used God as a threat but nothing changed and John grew more angry as Dean clenched his fists to his sides and it looked like he was ready to hit him. Jim gave up and sat down with a quiet sigh in the chair.  
  
“He’s so fucking stupid, it takes everything I’ve got to just stay here. If it hadn’t been for you,” John barked and pointed his finger at Dean. “I would’ve left him here a long time ago.”  
  
And that got the reaction John had been waiting for, Dean’s nostrils flared wildly, a sign that he was about to explode, fists clenched and unclenched, then he took a step closer and John waited for it, he was prepared, but what came wasn’t a hit to the jaw, instead it was more words.  
  
“Sam’s not stupid, he’s autistic! It’s a very big difference!” Dean yelled and John wanted to shake him, to drug him and escape with him, to protect him and undo the things he had done.  
  
“But he doesn’t talk, he doesn’t allow us to touch him, he cries all the fucking time and he doesn’t understand us! I sure as hell never asked for a child like that!” John screamed back and there was a loud sound in the room that stopped them silent as they both turned to face.. Sam.  
  
Sam looked angry, John could see that, angry, hurt and a little confused. And his eyes were plastered on John and if he hadn’t known better, he’d say that Sam looked betrayed as well, but John was almost sure Sam didn’t knew how to feel that. Sam slammed his foot into the floor again and he sobbed.  
  
“I’m sorry. Stop it now. I’m sorry!” Sam yelled and John’s anger faded quickly at hearing that.  
  
How the hell could he have said these things in the first place? Sam knew what stupid meant, and damn, John had yelled it so loud that the boy had heard him and now he thought it was his fault and John’s heart tightened in sadness and he took a step closer to his youngest son, who shook his head and backed away from him.  
  
Sam started to rock himself after that, looked up at the ceiling and John always wondered what exactly Sam found interesting up there, but the therapist couldn’t answer him because they didn’t knew either because Sam kept it from them and even autistic children/teenagers needed some privacy in their own mind.  
  
“It’s not your fault, cowboy.” Dean said as he made his way to his brother. “It’s not your fault.”  
  
John wanted to say so too, but he still felt a little angry at how the day had played out, how Sam acted and wouldn’t let anyone but Dean touch him. “The hell it isn’t!” He yelled instead and Dean tensed and Sam glared up at the ceiling and John wanted to kick himself in the ass.  
  
Then Sam sighed slowly through his nose, lowered his head and eyed John a little before he quickly settled his eyes on the floor. Dean was holding his hand out to Sam and it took awhile before Sam took it, but he did eventually. Then he did something John had never witnessed before, after almost three minutes of heavy silence, Sam took the final step closer to his brother and leaned his head against Dean’s chest.  
  
Then he clumsily wrapped his arms around Dean’s waist, tensed up a little before he relaxed again and Dean slowly, John decided hesitantly, wrapped his arms around his little brother‘s shoulders. It was.. It was..  
  
“But how..?” John whispered and itched the back of his neck in an awkward matter and heard Sam sigh.  
  
“John, come on.” Jim grabbed him by the elbow and dragged him out of the kitchen to leave the boys in some privacy.  
  
They sat down in the living room, Jim flipped on the TV just for some distraction and John wondered what was happening in the kitchen but his heart wasn’t really in the questioning. So instead, he turned to look at Jim who had been staring at him since they got there.  
  
“But how..? Sam’s not..” Jim smiled at that and John rolled his eyes.  
  
“Sam is. Dean is too.” Jim said and John didn’t get it. “Listen Johnny, they got a destiny none of us can change.” John frowned at him and opened his mouth but Jim just grabbed his shoulder and squeezed it before he added; “You know damn well what I’m talking about.”  
  
And John did. He knew. But he sure as hell didn’t like it. How was he ever going to come to terms with the incest twist that he knew would came later in the years of Sam’s progress? He knew it would be there, because he had seen it. Not only were Dean showing it pretty freely, but Sam was also very open about it even if he might not understand it just yet, he would, one day. And John didn’t like it.  
  
“I need a drink.” John said and got up from the couch, then he turned back to Jim and shook his head. “No, I need to get very very drunk.”  
  
And then he left the house without looking into the kitchen. But he didn’t need to however, because the scene inside of there made it through his mind as he passed the kitchen and saw Dean touch his forehead to Sam’s and he whispered something.  
  
That was what kept John going. That what made him drunk that night. The knowledge that there was nothing he could do to fix it somehow. Absolutely nothing.  
  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  
There was times, few and far between, when Sam seemed to be at ease with himself and nothing bad had happened that day and John innerly wished nothing would happen to blew the happy surface away. Sam was talking again, had been for a long time, but he still got frustrated with himself and the words never seemed to get out right, so Dean had given Sam a book so he’d be able to communicate through writing and it was going way better than John would’ve dared to hope for.  
  
 That day they had decided to see a movie at the cinema and Sam was exited, John could see that just by looking at the fourteen year old boy in front of him. Sam was very short for his age, but that was nothing that bothered any of them at the time, Dean helped Sam to dress and then they ate breakfast, Sam was eating very little and he kept rocking on the chair and he had this silly little smile on his face that got both John and Dean to smile as well.  
  
“You excited, Sammy?” Dean asked and Sam glared at him for the nickname but nodded rapidly.  
  
They didn’t rush it, because they knew exactly how that’d turn out, so instead they just took it easy and by the time it was time to get a move on, John flung the jacket on and waited in silence as Dean did the same and for Dean to help Sam.  
  
When Sam shoved Dean’s hand away with a huff of air, John thought a fight would break out, a fight that had never happened before. But the look Dean gave Sam showed nothing but patience and pride and John silently wondered what was going on between them at the moment as he watched Sam look at Dean, then down at his jacket and then..  
  
John’s eyes widened in shock. Sam was.. Sam had.. It took him three minutes and yet he stuffed his arms into the sleeves, zipped up the jacket around him and.. he had done it all on his own.. Was it really a surprise John was shocked? No. No, it wasn’t.  
  
“You..” John cleared his throat and quickly whipped a tear that escaped. “How long?” He asked and Sam looked into his eyes for a quick second before he looked down at his own hands and smiled.  
  
“A few weeks now.” Dean answered instead of Sam and John turned to him and smiled before he turned back to his youngest.  
  
“I’m so proud of you, Sammy.” He said and Sam really glowed of pride and even a little annoyance shone through.  
  
“Come on.” Was Sam’s replay to that, he grabbed Dean’s hand and looked at John’s chest and frowned. “Late.”  
  
And John just had to laugh at that and the day went perfectly well without a fit, Sam kept his happiness throughout the movie and John ignored the way his sons held each other’s hands in the dark, they didn’t knew he observed and he wasn’t gonna interrupt their moment. If anything, he had to come to terms with it before it actually happened. And John really tried.  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  
 _The supermarket._  
  
That was one of the places John hated the most. Not that he had anything against the grocery-store itself, but Sam always had a big fit when John had to bring him there and that day was one of these days where John had no other choice than to take Sam with him there, because that day was Sam’s fifteenth birthday.  
  
By the time Dean parked the Impala in the parking lot, Sam was hyperventilating and it looked like he was about to either threw up or faint and John didn’t want any of that, not that day, so he asked Dean to stay there with Sam and Dean turned to give him a stern look.  
  
“He has to face it and you know it. It’s just a phobia and we have to try to get him to understand it’s nothing dangerous.” Dean said and turned back to Sam who was riding shotgun. “You with me there?”  
  
Sam just looked at him and it took a few seconds but then Dean smiled and they were out of the car. John wondered - not for the first time - how Dean did it, he just needed one look to knew exactly what Sam thought and John shrugged his shoulders as he stretched, there was nothing he could do to ever understand their bond to one another, no matter how much he tried.  
  
Sam took Dean’s hand after a few steps and John ignored it because he knew that was Sam’s way of feeling safe whenever he was (or thought he was) in danger. John grabbed a shopping cart and walked a few steps before them so they could have their privacy.  
  
By the time they got to where the milk was at, people started to stare at Sam and Dean and their linked hands. People stared and John glared at them, tried silently to get them to understand that it wasn’t what they thought it was - but who was he kidding? Probably nobody. And Sam was staring to freak out.  
  
John tried his best to continue the shopping, but the way Dean talked to Sam, John knew that if they didn’t get out of there as quickly as possible, the boy would have a fit and John really didn’t want that since Sam was turning fifteen and that day just wasn’t.. he simply didn’t want a tantrum to happen.  
  
But it did. A very bad one.  
  
Sam started to rock, tried desperately to calm himself, but the rocking didn’t seem to work successfully, because a second later, a hard fist hit Sam’s chest, hard and harder, again and again and neither John nor Dean had time to grab him and calm him before a guard grabbed a tight hold of Sam’s fists and barked at him to stop the freakshow or the police would take care of it.  
  
Dean nearly lost it and John did, totally. He barked right back at the guard, shoved him away from his boy and they had a awful fist fight in front of a lot of people. But John didn’t care, all he cared about was his son and the way his son had been treated was so not right.  
  
“He has autism, you sonovabitch. It’s not just to grab him like that, damn it!” John screamed and flew a fist to the man’s jaw, the dude stumbled back a step and dropped his hands to the side with a sigh.  
  
“Sorry, I didn’t notice.” Was his lame excuse before a colleague of him told him to get the fuck away before the new man turned to look at John with an apologizing look in his eyes.  
  
“I’m sorry, he didn’t think twice but I’ll make sure this never happens again.” The man said, the nametag read Rickard, and John just shrugged. “You need help?”  
  
And John just shook his head before he turned back to his family, Dean tried to calm Sam down the best way possible but nothing was helping and the tantrum was starting to get worse. John took a deep breath, shoved Dean to the side with a mumbled ‘sorry‘, then he grabbed Sam’s hands and pulled him close to his chest.  
  
“Sam! Listen damn it!” He yelled, only to get Sam’s attention, but Sam didn’t listen, instead he struggled himself free, lost his balance and fell to the floor.  
  
John bent down to help him up, grabbed him by the shoulders, but Sam shoved his hands away and started to scream loudly, panicked and John tried to shush him, to get him to stop, but Sam didn’t. When it looked like he had gotten enough, Sam lifted himself up a little - like he was about to sit up - but then he threw himself back down, head first, and John tried to stop him but there’s nothing he can do anymore and Sam’s throwing his head down at the stone floor, again and again.  
  
“Dad..” Dean whispered beside him and John looked up just in time for Dean to look up at the people around them. “Come on already! He’s bleeding, call a fucking ambulance! Do something! Don’t just fucking stand there!”  
  
A older woman did call and Sam had stopped struggling. John looked down at his fallen son on the floor and tears built their way out of his eyes. In a puddle of blood, his youngest son was, pulse and breath even but a head injury could mean a lot of bad things and John didn’t fool himself.  
  
When the ambulance came, Dean had hauled himself underneath his little brother, holding him to his chest, was sitting in the puddle of Sam’s blood and John couldn’t do anything else but let his own tears fall. When the ambulance stuff had studied Sam and decided to take him to the hospital, John got up on shaky legs and then Dean and him got out to the Impala to drive after the ambulance to the hospital.  
  
Half an hour in Sam’s room and the boy not awake, John decided to head down to the cafeteria and offered Dean something, knew the boy wouldn’t leave his little brother’s side at any cost. Dean waved him away with a shrug, and John happily walked out of the too quiet room.  
  
John got himself a sandwich and ate it down in the cafeteria, then he grabbed a coffee to go as well, in case Dean had changed his mind. The female doctor stopped him just outside the room, and John wasn’t bothered by the distraction.  
  
“I called Sam’s therapist, since it’s important that Sam talks to someone after such a big tantrum he had back at the supermarket.” The doctor said and John nodded, he understood that much. “I got the tests back by the way, nothing seems wrong with his head despite the blood loss. But I want to keep him overnight in case..”  
  
“No.” John interrupted and shook his head. “It’s his birthday and I won’t let anything get into the way of that.”  
  
“But..” The doctor started and John just shook his head.  
  
“I know what to do during a head injury, I studied medical education while younger, so I know the deal.” John lied and the doctor seemed doubtful for awhile, then he nodded, giving in.  
  
John had lied, he had to admit that. But he knew what to do and the female doctor left him to it and John turned back to face the door and took a deep breath before he turned the doorknob and walked into Sam’s room. Then he lost the hold of the coffee in his hand as his eyes went directly to his boys who was kissing one another.  
  
Sam pulled away first and he stared directly at John who was still standing in the doorway. Sam’s face was flushed, he smiled a little and his eyes seemed unfocused and there was also a moment of confusion in his eyes as he looked at John with a frown.  
  
“Uh..” John didn’t really knew what to say exactly and he changed from one foot to the other.  
  
Then he saw the small caress Sam did with his thumb against Dean’s neck and John immediately knew the kiss hadn’t been taken by force and by the look of things, Dean’s back looked tense and John figured it had been their first.. And he cleared his throat and ducked his head some. “I’ll get the cleaning lady.”  
  
When he closed the door, he heard Dean’s hoarse laugh and he would’ve done anything to get the picture out of his head. And just a short while later, the doctor placed a secure hand on his shoulder and John turned around to face her with a carefully blank face.  
  
 “I’m gonna check on him, then therapist Wells will be here to talk to Sam, then you‘ll be okay to go home.” Marie - the doctor - said and smiled worriedly at him. “Are you okay?”  
  
“Me? Yeah, absolutely. Why shouldn’t I be?” He asked, then shook his head and kicked his own ass in silence. “I just dropped the coffee all over the floor, do you know where to find a nurse that’d be willing to help?” Great cover, he figured as the doctor nodded knowingly at him.  
  
“By the corner.” She said and John headed off in that direction, hoping the funny business in Sam’s room was over so that the doctor wouldn’t find out.  
  
Once back with the nurse and a mop, he stepped up to Sam’s bed and the doctor said to Sam that his head was okay and then she nodded to John to confirm it. John pressed down his urge to roll his eyes, instead he just nodded back to her.  
  
Around five minutes later, therapist Robert Wells walked into Sam’s room and Sam seemed to glow in happiness by his visit, a thing he never seemed to do when it came to his other therapist, Nina Larsson. There was something about females that Sam didn’t like and John found it amusing and sad all at once.  
  
John stepped up to the therapist and whispered his discover the only way he could; “Sam just kissed his brother. Please find out why.” The therapist nodded and before John could step back, Sam giggled loudly.  
  
“Kiss doc Rob ear.” Sam laughed and Dean joined him before he got up, ruffled Sam’s hair and walked out, John followed him.  
  
Outside, nothing was said, a heavy silence hung over them and John leaned back against the wall and stared ahead of himself, Dean did the same after a few minutes and they didn’t talk, didn’t comfort or fight with one another, there was just a tense silence that killed them both slowly.  
  
“I didn’t start it.” Dean said after what seemed to be enough silence for him and John nodded his knowledge.  
  
“But you didn’t stop it.” John said, didn’t sound angry or sad, he just said it because he had known the day would came, he just wished he’d be able to not witness it.  
  
“He doesn’t know.” Dean whispered and John turned his head to him and saw the distant desperation on him face and John put a hand on his shoulder and nodded.  
  
“He does. Deep down, he does know you love him.”  
  
That on the other hand was comfort. A different one that John would want to give. But the look on Dean’s face was literally killing him and he couldn’t stand to see the desperation there slowly drive the guy crazy. So instead of not saying anything further, he supported the incest he didn’t want to witness and Dean looked shocked and John shook his head and dropped his hand.  
  
“We’re not talking about this.” He said and Dean laughed and shook his head.  
  
“I figured.” He said and then they waited in silence again.  
  
Half an hour later, the door flung open and Sam had been crying and he still was as he flung himself at his brother, wrapped unsteady and clumsy hands around Dean’s waist and rested his face to Dean’s chest tightly.  
  
“..never le-lee-leave Sa-ha-ham.” Sam cried and Dean wrapped his arms around him too and looked at John with sad eyes before he looked down at Sam and kissed Sam’s head.  
  
“I’ll never leave ya, buddy.” John heard Dean whisper and he had to whip away his own tears as well.  
  
John took a risk, a big one on Sam’s part, but he couldn’t just stand there and see his sons, his world, crash and burn, so he took the risk and wrapped his arms carefully around both of them. Sam looked up at him with surprise on his teary face and John swallowed hard when Sam buried his face in John’s neck for the first time in many years and at the moment, he couldn’t stop the tears and he let them free.  
  
“..Dad stay too.” Sam whispered hoarsely and John laughed a little despite the tears and the held he had on Sam became a little tighter as he nodded.  
  
“Yeah, Sam. I’ll stay for awhile and I’ll always be back.”  
  
They stay like that for a long time, holding one another and giving a ratass about the therapist and the people around them, all they care about at the moment is one another and once they let go of one another, the therapist gave them a small smile of an apology and John didn’t resist the urge this time, instead he rolled his eyes openly and took Sam’s hand in his own and went out of the hospital.  
  
It was his youngest son’s fifteenth birthday and they were gonna celebrate it. Didn’t matter that the cake was still at the supermarket in the shopping cart, all that was needed was Sam’s well-being and they had a calm evening together with a lot of laughter and joy.  
  
And love that was forbidden. But who cared anyway?  
  
Nobody.


	4. 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning!! Mentions of non-concental oral sex!!

Nothing further happened from that moment on. Dean was gone most of the time, claimed that he had to study in case he wanted to head off to college after he graduated high school, since he had to go one year more because of he chose to rather skip school than to knew Sam was in John‘s care, but the fact that John knew Dean wouldn’t leave for college, had even gotten a part times job for himself beside school that’d be a real job the day he graduated, he knew the boy kept away on purpose.  
  
Sam didn’t seem to care, but John knew he did, someway, somehow, the boy thought his brother had left when he had promised he wouldn’t and it worried John to see Sam head back a step in his progression, the boy wasn’t touching anyone again, not even Dean when he was home, Sam just kept to himself and it saddened John to witness that, even if he had said he didn’t want to see them together, he didn’t want to see Sam miserable in the lost mind of his.  
  
That day it was a dad-son moment in Sam’s class and Jim had asked at least five times if John wanted him to go instead, but the pleading look of understanding from Sam crashed that question and John was getting ready. He had been home for two weeks now and it felt nice, it really did. But sometimes the desire of killing some sonovabitch got the better outta John and he exploded in rage.  
  
So he had decided, next week he’d head off to the closest hunt, because he didn’t want Sam to get even more sad than he already was. They took the truck and it took hell of a lot of time to get Sam seated, because the truck was high and Sam was.. Clumsy.. His limbs didn’t want to follow his movements and by the time John sat in the front, he was breathing really damn quick but Sam wasn’t crying and that was a progress in itself, helping Sam, the need of touching him while doing so, often freaked the boy out, but that day it didn’t.  
  
“Do you have any friends?” John asked as he started the engine and Sam rested his forehead to the cold window beside him.  
  
He didn’t get an answer, so that possible meant no. John kept trying to make some small talk over the drive to the school, but Sam was ignoring him and wasn’t even looking at him. Once the car was turned off, John watched in silence and fear as Sam opened the door and jumped down. To their happiness, nothing bad happened and Sam caught himself as he was about to fall flat on his ass.  
  
Sam was fifteen and he was growing taller by every minute that went on and John had to be blind if he didn’t notice that, which he did with pride. John had been in Sam and Dean’s school twice before, but only in teacher-parents meeting and never because Sam had been outright bullied as he had been throughout every other school the boy had went to.  
  
When they stepped into one of Sam’s classroom, the boy looked downwards and kept stumbling into things, but the kids around them didn’t seem to care about his behaviors, instead they said hi to him and went back to their own friends.  
  
Dean had friends, John knew that because he had meet them more times than he could count on his hands and he took a chair beside his son in silence, observed every move the boy did, because he had never witnessed Sam in that kind of surrounding before and it worried him quite a bit that Sam didn’t talk to anyone, he kept to himself and seemed just fine doing so.  
  
A few minutes later, other parents started to show up and took their seats beside their kids and the room was tightly filled with sounds and John wondered how Sam would react to that, but the boy just kept quiet and if anything showed his dismissal in the whole scene of parents filling the room, it was the pinching he did to his own thigh and he was also rocking just a little, but enough for John to notice.  
  
Then the room grew quiet and the teacher walked into the room, he was a big, muscular man with a bolt head and Sam seemed to glow happily in his presence and his name was Paul and something more John couldn’t really care to remember. Paul clapped his hands together to get the attention on him and when the room was quiet, he smiled but John - as a hunter, he saw those things - could see that it was forced.  
  
“We usually don’t make these days in high school because your kids should be old enough to know what’s wrong and right.” The teacher said and it felt like John had been stabbed with a knife in the gut. “But there has been some.. Misleads and I think it’d be great for all of us to sort it out.”  
  
John wasn’t the smartest of men, but he had a feeling that this very conversation was about his son, one way or the other, because Sam had a hard time figuring out what was wrong and both John and Dean had tried to teach him the difference between these things, but they could’ve forgotten something and..  
  
“What’s going on?” A parent asked as he eyed the teacher in the front. “What happened?”  
  
“That’s why I asked you to come. As you all know, this school isn’t tolerating bullying, but it has happened beyond the zero tolerance and we think it’s important both children and parents knew what’s going on.” He said and John immediately felt the air change from easy to tense and by looking at the faces of the kids, John figured it all out and clenched his fists together while Sam kept quiet.  
  
“We allow kids with special-needs to become a part of this school because we don’t want to see those kids go through a school that’s not enough for them. Sam’s one of those kids,” Paul said and smiled at the boy who had for the moment stopped rocking and was looking somewhere past the teacher’s shoulder. “and there has been some.. teasing along the way which of course isn’t okay.”  
  
When the meeting was over, John wanted to beat each one of the kids that had been in the classroom and kill some of the parents because they surely had to talk badly about kids with disabilities, otherwise the kids shouldn’t react badly to Sam’s behaviors.  
  
The parents promised to talk to their children and the kids told Sam they were sorry and it’d never happen again. John was the only parent and Sam was the only kid in the room when the classroom was empty and Paul smiled apologizing at them.  
  
“I won’t tolerance this behavior, that’s why I made it so everyone got here today.” The teacher said as he made his way to where they were sitting. “I hope that was okay for you, Sam?”  
  
John watched as the boy tensed up by the usage of his name and he looked at John with tired eyes but shook his head, he didn’t talk, so far he hadn’t said a word since they left this morning and John wondered if Sam had been aware of this before or not.  
  
“Next time, make sure you tell him about it.” John growled and Sam blinked a few times before he his face turned into a smile. “And I want to know if this happens again so I’ll know if I’ll have to change school for Sam.”  
  
The teacher nodded stupidly, apologized his regrets and mistakes and John allowed him to continue for a minute or so, then he got up from the chair, reached out his hand to Sam and waited around two minutes before Sam took it, then they walked out and went home.  
  
The school day wasn’t over for Sam, but it was if John had any say in it. And he looked at the issue with seriousness, because that school was important for Sam’s future and if this happened again, if Sam was bullied again during school time, John would’ve to make sure to follow his threat, because he really didn’t want his son to head back even further in his progress.  
  
He simply wouldn’t allow it.  
  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  
It took half a year, but it had been worth the wait and at the moment, Sam had his first real friend. Or actually, they had been friends for quiet a time the first time the boy chose to visit Sam at Pastor Jim’s house. John had just gotten home from a hunt when Sam told him about it and John didn’t have the heart to say no when he could see just how important it seemed to be for Sammy and he allowed it with open arms.  
  
The boy whoever wasn’t a very nice kid. He was three years older than Sam, he had an awful language and Sam was mimicking him in almost everything. Like; The kid had as long hair as Sam, and instead of stroking it behind his ears, he flipped his head and the bangs got out of the way, Sam did that too nowadays.  
  
His name was Theodore and he was Sam’s guardian or whatever the school had decided to come up with to keep the mean kids away from Sam. Well, Theodore wasn’t the best choice, John decided, but he could teach Sam a few things along the way, things that were normal acting from teenage boys and John figured it couldn’t really hurt.  
  
And he laughed a lot, laughed at Sam’s behavior without sounding sarcastic or teasing, he seemed to just think Sam was hilarious. Dean however didn’t like the kid for whatever reason, and John knew it had to be jealousy, it just had to be. Whenever Theodore was over at their house, Dean glared at him, tried to warn him off and all the other things a jealous boyfriend would do.  
  
But they weren’t boyfriends. They were brothers. Sam was allowed to have a friend, damn it. Dean was scared like hell about something and kept away longer than necessarily, sure as hell Sam needed someone and if that someone was Theo, then so be it.  
  
John was actually very happy to see Sam interested in someone else. And he didn’t give a fuck what Dean thought about it. Sam deserved a friend. He really fuckin’ did. Damn it.  
  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  
Sam was at Theodore’s house to study one day after school, it was the first time John ever approved to Sam’s desire to walk home alone and he was happy to knew someone was there with him while doing so. But the plans changed later however, as Dean got home from work and realized Sam wasn’t home yet.  
  
“Where the fuck is he?” Dean asked and John opened his mouth but Jim interrupted them with a knock to the wall behind them and they turned to face the Pastor who allowed them to live in his home.  
  
“Theodore called, Sam’s having a tantrum and wants Dean to come get him.” John cursed under his breath as Dean glared evilly at him before he got the address and then he was gone again just as quickly as he got there.  
  
John paced the room, because he wondered what had happened, Sam hadn’t had a tantrum since he started to hang out with Theodore and John had given him a little more freedom to be the teenage boy he was, and yet he was having one now and John knew he wasn’t wanted when one happened, because Sam always wanted Dean.  
  
So he paced the house and thoughts of whys and ifs wandered through his mind ‘til he heard the Impala’s roar came from the outside, then slowly died down. John went to the window and looked out to witness Dean helping his little brother out of the car, Sam looked pale and sad, but there was no visible bruise anywhere he could see and John thanked his lucky star for it.  
  
Once inside, in the hall and still dressed, Sam took Dean’s hand and rocked himself quickly and out of control. John wanted to help him, to stop him, but Sam just kept going and he looked more confused than frustrated or angry and that made John’s mind turn.  
  
“Shower.” Sam whispered quietly and John nearly missed it. “Sam shower.”  
  
The fact that the boy wanted a shower was a surprise in itself, because Sam never really liked to shower and if John had let himself think about it further, he would’ve figured out what had happened that day. But he didn’t, because he didn’t want to, and Dean helped Sam with the shower.  
  
When dinner was ready, Sam didn’t eat anything, he just kept rocking himself to and fro on the chair, and he was silent and his eyes were red from crying. That night, John went to check up on Sam after the boy had been tucked into bed and that was when he found Dean holding Sam to his chest, tightly, and both boys were sleeping peacefully together.  
  
John quietly closed the door.  
  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  
No day went by without Sammy having a big fit for this or that or nothing in practical and John was worried and he could see that Dean reacted the same way. Dean was more home now then ever because the tantrums and self-injurious behavior worried him more than to find himself laid.  
  
That was what John thought he was doing when he wasn’t home for a few days anyway, and Dean didn’t deny it, he had even had a few female friends over for dinner and these days were the worst for Sam, because he was just as jealous as Dean had been and John could finally admit the irony in the matter and the exchanges the brothers did, had never been missed by the females and John had never seen her again after she stormed off with words of disgust and child-molester.  
  
Sam was getting worse, he had already two broken ribs and his stomach, chest and thighs were black with bruises and John tied him up a lot more times than he wanted and Sam had blacked out five times by throwing his head to the floor or the wall and yet there had never been a head injury and John was very grateful for that, but miserable because he wondered what kept Sam to behave the way he was.  
  
When it had been two months since the day Sam had been at Theodore’s home, the Winchester family got aware of what had happened that day, by a very tragic accident on Sam’s part. Dean had to work overtime, John had to get to the grocery store, so Jim offered to pick Sam up at school.  
  
John hadn’t seen any harm in that and had agreed to it. Jim got the truck ready and John watched him drive away with a small smile, before he made himself ready as well. But he got distracted by a phone call from Bobby, the stupid bastard had found a hunt, had taken it up on himself to get the sonovabitch and now he needed backup. John rolled his eyes and told the old man he’d be there as soon as he had told Sam he was leaving.  
  
Leaving without telling Sam didn’t exist in John’s head, so he waited by the porch on them to come home. Dean got home first and he took a seat beside him on the second step, and John was just about to tell him about his plans when Jim’s truck showed up and got to a halt. Jim got out, walked to Sam’s side of the car and opened the door. He was saying something neither John nor Dean could hear from where they were sitting, but both of them could see that Sam was having a fit.  
  
Jim helped the boy out of the car and John decided to stay silent and on the stairs, because he knew the Pastor had a good hand with Sam and then the events happened so quickly that the air got trapped in John’s throat and Dean was up on his feet before John even had time to react.  
  
Sam had pushed Jim away so powerfully the man fell on his ass to the ground, the boy watched this in horror written all over his face, then he started to bang his head to the side of the truck, over and over again. John helped Jim up from the floor and watched as Dean took a firm hold of Sam.  
  
“Johnny! For god sake, listen to me!” Jim said and John turned back to the man who tried to push the wrinkles out of his clothes. “I think I know what got him so angry in the first place..”  
  
Sam’s scream interrupted the man and they both turned to stare at Dean who held Sam and talked to him, told him to stop and Sam repeated him in exact words and a voice that sounded exactly like Dean’s. It was almost scary and John shivered despite himself and the boys were trying to over voice one another.  
  
“Why are Sam so angry?” Dean finally asked, and it was a known way to get Sam to talk.  
  
Whenever the boy had a big tantrum, the only way to get his attention was to use Sam as a third person while talking to him and luckily, Sam responded by quitting the struggling and he buried his face in Dean’s chest and started to cry hysterically.  
  
“Angry with Dean.” Sam whispered loudly and John narrowed his eyes because the boys nearly never fought. “Know everything. Not lollipop like penis and painted man.”  
  
John looked at Jim who was looking at him as well and they both were frowning in confusion. What exactly was Sam talking about anyway? John’s heart was beating so fast it almost hurt and Jim didn’t look any better either. Sam clung to Dean’s chest and he sobbed loudly.  
  
“What exactly are Sam talking about?” Dean asked and took a step back but his hands didn’t leave Sam’s face and he touched their foreheads together and thumbed away Sam’s tears.  
  
Sam frowned. “Diary knows. Dean not.” Sam smiled despite the confusion on his face and he made eye contact with Dean for a few seconds before he looked over his shoulder again. “Under the mattress. Dairy knows.”  
  
John and Jim walked to stand beside them at that moment and Sam quietly looked at them, then he backed away from Dean’s hands which fell to his sides and Sam quickly looked at John before his eyes found an interest in the ground beneath his shoes and then he backed a few steps more before he turned around and almost ran into the house.  
  
“I’ll go take a look on that diary.” Dean said it in a warning and both John and Jim stayed downstairs as Dean made his way upstairs.  
  
Both John and Jim were pacing the kitchen while Dean was upstairs with Sam and John wanted to go up there and demand to knew what was going on, but he knew he had to wait ‘til Dean came downstairs or Sam allowed him to come inside his room.  
  
Yeah, you read right, Sam was going through a phase where he didn’t allow anyone else but Dean into his room and sometimes Jim was allowed inside too, but only sometimes and never John and John really tried not to take it personally, because the therapists had said it was normal and John knew they were right, but he couldn’t deny that it still stung.  
  
“ ** _DAAAAD!_** ” Half an hour later, Dean screamed for him and John could hear the panic in his voice and he practically ran up the stairs and barked through Sam’s door, the no parents rules didn’t exist at the moment.  
  
Dean held the dairy in his hands, had Sam pressed to his chest and the oldest Winchester brother were crying, big, fat tears rolled down his cheeks and Sam looked rather scared than anything else and John eyed them in silence as he tried to figure out what had freaked Dean out so much.  
  
“Sam’s sorry. I’m sorry.” Sam said loudly and Dean looked down at him and shook his head sadly.  
  
“It’s not your fault, baby.” Dean whispered and John’s eyes widened at that one word, Sam’s eyes did too. “Daaad! For fuck sake!”  
  
Dean probably hadn’t heard him, neither had Sam and his youngest was now yet again buried face first to Dean’s chest and John walked to stand beside them. John looked at Dean who silently made eye contact with him and the tears didn’t stop.  
  
“What happened?” John asked and watched as the tears became an angry glare and he thrust the book to John.  
  
“He got raped. Fucking raped!” Dean said and John could hear that he tried really hard to keep his voice out of anger, because it’d only scare Sam more.  
  
John’s heart skipped a beat before it started again, pumping blood quickly through his veins and he had to take a few studying breaths to be able to even open the book with his shaky hands. When he was calm enough, he opened the book and damn if the boy hadn’t written it in red - to Sam red was an angry color - and he started to read silently.  
  
 _ **‘Theo said there was a clown that’d come to me on nights. A clown with teeth, like the clown in the movie on the television in Theo’s room. He’d eat me and it’d hurt really bad, Theo said. But he helped me, the clown with the teeth isn’t coming tonight, because Theo helped me. Theo sucked my dick like a lollipop and it didn’t disappear like lollipops do, but a thunderstorm went through my body and it felt nice. But I didn’t want to, I felt wrong and Theo was angry.  
  
Dean got me home. I took a shower. Now I’m writing. Dad’s making dinner. There’s no clown coming tonight. There’s no clown coming tonight. I hope not. I hope Theo helped me. He said he was. And I feel angry and I broke a promise to dad and Dean. They’re angry. They are going to be.'**_  
  
Those were Sam’s words. In a correct way with no missing words and no incompleteness, just words of confusion and sadness. John took a deep breath, he wasn’t going to cry, he told himself that over and over, but fat tears made it’s escape anyway and he bit his lip so as not to sob.  
  
“Sam’s ssso scared. Stttt-stupid Sam not rember.” Sam said and Dean caressed his cheek and neck and Sam seemed to relax a little.  
  
It took a few minutes of silence, then Dean took two steps back, bent down to be in Sam’s eyelevel and made eye contact with him. John passed the book over to Jim and watched as his older son kissed his younger on the cheek, protectively and lovely and so heartbreaking it took all John’s willpower not to break down into a sobbing baby on the floor.  
  
“Sam,” Dean said the name so slowly it made Sam look directly into Dean’s eyes. “You have to stay calm and tell me if you wanted Theo to..” John could see that he had a lot of trouble to get the words out. “if you wanted Theo to suck your dick like that or not.”  
  
Sam frowned and started to rock a little as he broke the eye contact with Dean. “Not. But told Sam the painted man eating and Sam not rember Dean told. No movy real.” Mostly, John didn’t understand Sam’s rambling, but that he did understand.  
  
Sam sighed before he looked over at where Jim were reading his dairy and John could see the boy tense up and Dean tensed up with him in sympathy before he turned around and eyed the Pastor who seemed to be too deep into the book to be aware of the looks that were directed his way.  
  
“You shouldn’t read that without permission first, Sir. Sam’s very clear about that.” Dean said and Jim stopped reading and lowered the book to his side without closing it.  
  
“I’m sorry Sammy.” John said in reflection because he had been reading the first page as well without permission from Sam’s part.  
  
Sam looked up at him quickly before he lowered his eyes with a confused sigh. Jim reached out the diary to Sam and it took half a minute before Sam took it and hugged it tightly to his chest. First he smiled a little and nodded slowly, seemed lost in his own world for a minute or two. Then he shook his head rapidly and looked up at John again.  
  
“Not Sammy. Sam and different.” Sam kept his eyes on him so steadily that it made John uncomfortable and he was the one who broke the eye contact first. “Why?” Sam asked and lowered his own head with a small sigh.  
  
“Sam’s not differen..” Dean started but John put a hand on his shoulder, squeezed it and when they made eye contact, John told him through his eyes that it was time, Dean just nodded quietly.  
  
John lowered himself down on the floor ‘til he was sitting down and Sam looked down at him with a amused expression on his face, then he laughed just a little and John smiled sadly, reached out his arms and it took a few seconds before Sam wrapped his arms around him and allowed John to do the same.  
  
“You’re right Sam.“  
  
Sam took a seat before him, careful not to touch. Again. A huge step back and John would make sure to make the kid suffer for what he had done to his beautiful little boy, then he refocused on Sam and saw that the boy was waiting to hear what John had to say.  
  
“You’re different, son, but you have to know you can do whatever pleases you, it may only take a little further time for you than others to get there.” Sam nodded and followed his finger in the pattern of the floor, over and over again.  
  
“Called?” He asked in a low voice and John was surprised to hear Sam ask so much.  
  
“It’s called autism. It’s nothing dangerous, it just makes you the way you are. It makes you Sam.” John said and found that he meant it, he had no idea who Sam would’ve been without the autism and he really didn’t want to figure it out.  
  
Sam looked scared and sad, he was rocking back and forth, from side to side and back and forth again. His finger stepped up in pace and the pattern he made was also visible for John at the moment, because Sam had all his focus on his finger and it would‘ve been impossible to miss it. A big D. That was what Sam was doing with his finger. Which meant Dean. John knew it did.  
  
“Sam dead?! No leave Dean and daddy!” Sam said and he sounded so broken, and John wondered if he had done the right thing to tell the boy the truth.  
  
“No kiddo. Sam’s not going to die. And you’ll not leave Dean and dad.” Dean said and placed a hand on Sam’s shoulder, but John watched as Sam shrugged it off of him and his face was literally painted in horror.  
  
“Sam no dead but autim go with Dean touch.” Sam started to cry and John’s heart clenched tightly in his chest and he bent forward and kissed Sam’s forehead and placed his bangs behind his ears before he got up and left the room.  
  
John made his way downstairs, he knew he was stupid putting this in Dean’s hands, but if he had stayed there any longer, he’d be crying like a baby because Sam’s confused face were about to be the death of him and John really didn’t want to die right there. So instead of saying anything further, he made a silent point to Sam that autism didn’t go through touch by kissing his forehead.  
  
Almost an hour passed before Sam and Dean came downstairs and John placed the pizza on the table just in time for them to head in through the door of the kitchen and Dean shot him a glare but didn’t say anything out loud. Three hours later, John, Jim and Dean took a seat in the living room and the fight started just as the TV was turned on.  
  
“Is Sam alright?” John made the mistake of asking and Dean exploded in rage.  
  
“He’s not alright!” Dean got up from the couch and clenched his hand into a tight fist that’d hurt if he chose to hit him. “He just got molested and you just had to throw it in his face like that now. Isn’t it enough that he goes through a lot of shit already?!” John got up from the couch too so he’d be able to defend himself in case Dean wanted to start a fistfight.  
  
“It’s not like he understands what happened between him and Theo, he has no idea he got hurt. I came here to..” Dean interrupted him even before he had a chance to stop himself.  
  
“He understands, okay?!” Dean yelled and pulled his fist back. “He knew what happened to him was wrong and he’s filled with emotions and anger he don’t understand and he needs us to help him, not upset him further. So I suggest you talk to Theodore’s parents and I’ll handle the boy myself. Meanwhile, Sam’s not going to school.” John could clearly hear it was an order and it made his blood boil.  
  
“Don’t order me around, boy!” And before he had time to think, to stop himself, his own fist hit Dean across the cheek and the boy fell to the floor with big, shocked eyes and a hand that rubbed the red mark there just below his nose.  
  
Damn, he hadn’t been thinking and now Dean was bleeding from the nose, but he got up from the floor and stumbled backwards toward the stairs but his eyes never left John and the anger in them was almost scary to witness.  
  
“Johnny! What in Christ name are you doing?!“ Jim backed John against the wall and defended Dean with his whole being, not that it was really necessarily, John regretted what he had done and he wouldn’t ever do the same again. He’d regret it ‘til the day he died and that was for sure. “Get the hell out of here!!” John screamed and grabbed his collar and without warning, he pulled John to the door, opened it and shoved him outside.  
  
John turned and headed to the truck, the door slammed closed and once he was sitting in the truck, he started to cry. Stupid tears. He wasn’t a weak man, he was a hunter, the best in the business and he knew how to held emotions inside. But.. Sam somehow always got the best outta him. Or maybe it was the worst.  
  
He decided to head off to the hunt Bobby had wanted him to help him with and while he was there, he decided he’d go back home later and talk to Dean, try to get the boy to understand and then.. _the yellow eyed demon showed up_..


	5. 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning!! Mentions of eating disorders!!

  
Lucifer’s right hand, the YED, the one and only that destroyed the Winchester family a long time ago was standing just a few feet away from him, sneering with yellow eyes and teeth made of worms. Bobby was on the floor, out cold with a - _hopefully_ \- minor head injury, blood poured out of him every second that ticked by and there was nothing John could do.  
  
He could fight for his life, sure. He could try to trick the demon into the devils-trap but John knew without the need of being told that the evil bastard before him wouldn’t be fooled. And the worst of it all was, John couldn’t kill him, neither could he send the evil sonovabitch back to hell.  
  
Not without the Colt.  
  
They circled one another for a short period of time, like cat and rat and John wasn’t really sure who was having the bigger hand at the control there, the YED or himself, probably the first mentioned because he could snap his ugly fingers and send John dead to the floor. Everyone of them could, but the YED was the most powerful demon John had ever meet.  
  
And believe me, that was many. He wasn’t a demon hunter for nothing. Bobby made himself heard and noticed by groaning out loudly in pain and John lost focus just half a second to look his way and that had been half a second too much.  
  
Snap snap, the sound of fingers made the quiet room echo, a big hand was raised against him and John was forced back against the wall, unable to move, unable to speak and he had a hard time to catch the air as well that had been knocked out of him.  
  
“Well, hello papa Winchester.” The YED (the demon had a name but John didn’t care enough to use it) “What a pleasure meeting you like this.” A hand movement and John was able to breath again.  
  
Before the demon had time to say anything more, Bobby did the stupid move of making noise and the YED looked towards the broken man on the floor, John watched in sheer horror as the demon went to his old hunter buddy, bent down over his wounded body and laughed evilly.  
  
“Singer here’s too old for these games.” The evil bastard said and turned back to John with a leer on his face. “He’ll be dead by the time we’re done here, Johnny.” Another wave of the hand and John’s throat tightened up before it relaxed and he was able to talk.  
  
“What do you want from me? Haven’t you destroyed this family enough?!” John asked and the YED laughed and went back to stand way too close to him.  
  
Well, that was better than him standing by Bobby who wasn’t even awake yet, no possibility he could fight for his right of survival. And no, there was no way in hell John believed the YED, Bobby weren’t going to die, not for a very long time that was and John was gonna make sure of that.  
  
Somehow.  
  
“Well, well, well.” The YED said and laughed. “I’m not the kind of man that easily admit to my mistakes, but I can admit that I made a huge mistake with Sammy.” The demon said and a shiver of hatred and fear went through John at the name of his youngest son on the tongue of the demon.  
  
“What the hell are you talking about?” John demanded to knew and the YED made his hand into a fist and twisted it around.  
  
John saw red, then the pain filled him out of nowhere, his stomach went wild and blood poured out of his mouth like vomit. He was allowed to hang his head forward so that he wouldn’t accidentally choke on his own blood and the demon brushed his fingers through John’s sweaty hair before he made a fistful of hair and pulled his hand back, the blood had stopped and the YED shook his head in what looked like pity.  
  
“The army was going to be a perfect place with Sammy in it, I was told we were going to win it and I did my best to succeed with him. Unfortunately he couldn’t take it and became way weaker than I intended, the boss won’t have him, says it’s playing unfair and I got fired.” The YED said, tracked his hand down to John’s cheek and held it there for a second too long.  
  
“Nothing can stop me, Johnny, I’m gonna kill you and your friend in the corner. Nothing you can do but pray. So well,” The YED smirked. “best time to start is now.”  
  
John wasn’t the kind of person who prayed, didn’t believe in God and a higher power of goodness, because if there was a power, a God somewhere that intended to do good, where the heck was he and why wasn’t he helping the humans survive the war with the evil sonovabitches?  
  
But John actually did pray that moment, prayed for his youngest son to forgive him for the mistakes he had made, prayed for Dean to get a proper job he deserved and for the boys to find an happy ending with one another, since you as a Winchester couldn’t trust anyone else but family.  
  
John watched as the YED poured the blood out of Bobby with a gentle wave of his hand, the blood was pouring out through his mouth, nose and ears and then when Bobby pulled his last breath, the dark room turned even darker before it grew bright and the YED seemed to shrink.  
  
John had to close his eyes for a second so as not to go blind and when the bright light was dull, he opened them again and in front of him and beside the YED stood a chubby man with his hands linked together below the stomach.  
  
“This the man you told me about?” The man asked and the YED was wide eyed and his yellow eyes seemed to involve the great deal of fear.  
  
“Uhm, Eeh..” The man that had just appeared in the room slapped the Azazel on the back of his head and shook his head.  
  
“It’s an easy question.” Snap, snap.  
  
“Who the hell are you?” John asked when he was able to talk again and the man smiled gleefully.  
  
“Aah, you’re the right man, I see. Winchester, isn’t it?” The man said and John raised his eyebrows high on his forehead. “You see, Winchester, this moron destroyed something very pure, something I deserved. But now? Now I have to change my entire plan and that isn’t fair, now is it?”  
  
The YED looked like a shamed dog at the moment and John was grieving his friend, he was worried about his youngest son and upon everything else, he was confused as hell. Who the hell was this man - thing - and what exactly was he doing there?  
  
John watched as the strange man went to the corner where Bobby’s body was dumped, a puddle of blood around him, and the man shook his head, touched two fingers to Bobby’s forehead and to John’s big surprise, his friend gasped after breath.  
  
Was this guy the God John didn’t believe in? Who else would he be? Nothing devil saved and revived a dead man and of that John was sure because during all the years he had been hunting, he hadn’t ever seen anything like it. Then the guy turned back to John again and smiled gleefully at him.  
  
Short blond hair, chubby, jeans and a worn out green tee-shirt. No shoes. The man went to stand before him, a meter apart maybe, and waved his hand in a gentle movement, and John fell to the ground with a thud. The man bent down but didn’t offer a hand and the gleeful smile didn’t disappear.  
  
“You should consider yourself lucky, John. The king of hell saved your sorry ass. Don’t make it a habit.” The guy.. wait.. _The king of hell_. Lucifer of all things out there had saved him and relived Bobby.  
  
Why?  
  
“Why?” John had to ask and the devil linked his hands together again and shook his head.  
  
“It’s the right thing to do. You could see it as an apology from my part. Sam was never meant to become as screwed as he is.” Lucifer said and took a firm grip of Azazel’s neck. “Now I’m afraid my time here is running cold and the road back to hell is long and painful. So I’ll make my escape and you’ve got five minutes to get out of here before the place explodes. Bye.”  
  
With nothing but a loud echo of nothingness, the devil was gone and the YED was going with him. No other things but grabbing Bobby and running filled his mind at the moment and John did just that and watched from the outside how the small cabin exploded.  
  
The ride back to the motel was quiet and uncomfortable and John had a massive desire to shower off the memories but he knew nothing would shake it off and make him forget what had just happened. Once back in the motel room, Bobby tried to discuss the issue with him but John just shook him off.  
  
The last thing he heard before he walked out the door was Bobby’s usual “ ** _BALLS_**!” and John didn’t really care at the time as he got into the truck and drove the miles home. He really needed to see his sons and make sure they were both okay.  
  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  
“Dad?” John had just closed the door behind him and Sam was already in the hall to greet him.  
  
The boy looked a little thinner, a lot taller and yet it had just been two weeks since he had last seen the boy. And not only did Sam look taller, he also looked scared, of him. And John felt the fist of guilt hit him in the chest again, clenched at his heart and he was so sorry for what he had done.  
  
“Hi Sammy.” John said just as Dean entered the hallway as well, went straight to Sam and when he realized John was in there too, his body went rigid. “Hi Dean.”  
  
His older son nodded a greeting while Sam ducked his head and started to count silently as he rocked himself, a clear view of the confusion and nervousness that went through the boy at the moment, John didn’t even need to see his face to understand that his youngest son was in a lot of stress.  
  
Dean seemed to notice this too since his body relaxed some, face going carefully blank as he took the few steps that kept them apart and pulled John into a hug. It had been too fucking long already. Months if not more. And yet it was completely false.  
  
“You better have a great reason to be back.” Dean whispered against John’s ear and John tightened his arms around him before he let him go.  
  
Damn. Just fuckin’ damn.  
  
He couldn’t possible tell Dean about what the devil had said, there was no way in hell the boy would accept it. Jim on the other hand was a better person to seek answers from. Where the Pastor was at the moment was another question.  
  
Sam looked more at ease when Dean stepped back to stand beside his brother and they held one another’s hand without worrying about John seeing. And John would make sure that they didn’t need to worry anymore, because what they had wasn’t a shame.  
  
John kicked off his shoes and dropped the jacket somewhere in the corner before he walked into the kitchen to grab a coffee and a sandwich, the drive had been long and painful and he was hungry. In the corner of his eyes, he watched Sam pick up the jacket and hang it on the hook by the door. A thing Sam hadn’t done before.  
  
When he did step into the kitchen, Jim was at the table, reading a newspaper and by the time he looked up to face him, the TV in the living room was on and Sam was laughing along with his brother. John made the sandwich, poured up some coffee and sat down.  
  
“Well?” Jim asked and turned the page of the paper in front of him, but he looked at John all the same. “Did you apologize?”  
  
John sat down heavily on the chair with a small sigh escaping his lips. Okay, he had made a huge mistake, many mistakes to be correct, and there was no way John could tell the Pastor what had happened at the hunt. Not yet anyway, John figured.  
  
“I will.” John said determinedly, rubbed his forehead and yawned for effort. “I just need to settle some first.”  
  
Jim nodded and looked down in the paper again and he was wearing a deep frown on his face, an expression that had nothing to do with the Pastor’s worry about the Winchester family. And John didn’t press the issue either, because some privacy was important and..  
  
“There has been two new deaths this week.” Jim said and looked up at him, expression sad and worried and John got it without any further explanation.  
  
He grabbed the paper from Jim, read the article and got a headache from hell, literally. There, on page 24, was a picture of a broken man and two innocent children, and the text was read;  
  
‘ _Half past midnight to Sunday this morning, another fire broke lose out of nowhere in the town Lima in Ohio. It’s the same pattern, it happened exactly the same way and the woman died.  
  
The man - Thomas Greyer - tells a story of a rare case with his wife tied to the ceiling. It’s not the first time this happens and the police is looking at the fire as arson. The man and his children walks free since the police isn’t convinced it’s any of the family members._ ’  
  
John shook his head and took a big sip of the coffee that hardly was going to help him calm down. John hadn’t wanted to see it, to think about it way too deeply, but he had always known he hadn’t been alone and he wondered if the youngest kid of these families had been through the same as Sammy, or if they had been strong enough to come through it alive.  
  
And if so, what was going on with these kids at the moment and what plans did Satan have?  
  
Many questions and there was no answers to them. John knew that. But even if he did, it didn’t change the fact that he felt very hopeless and frustrated in the matter.  
  
There was heard a loud explosion from the TV and then Sam was crying and Dean was trying to hush him. Jim explained that some things had changed since John left that night and what had changed was that Sam was more or less for loud noises. Like he had been as a kid.  
  
And John knew it was all his fault.  
  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  
John had decided to get to know Sam a little better, to get him to understand that John was trying his hardest and how to prove such a thing to a autistic person was difficult - he had been told - because they hardly ever trusted anyone or let that person inside.  
  
But John was determined. He just had no clue as how to do it.  
  
Dean on the other hand was almost never home, taking up double shifts at work or getting himself in trouble at school just to avoid going home and face John. There was always a heavy tension between them, fights and rage filled the house each and every time they were in the same room.  
  
John knew it was just a matter of time before Dean said goodbye to them and left. Why he hadn’t done it already was because of Sam. Autistic people had a hard time trusting people, John got that. Dean wasn’t autistic, but he was Sam’s brother and lover, - well, John was sure they hadn’t went that far yet - and he was overprotective and possessive, no one had a right to get as close to Sam as him, any less John.  
  
But he was just as much Sam’s father as he was Dean’s and he had to make the boy understand that somehow. So when he got the opportunity the first day of the second week, he practically forced Dean into the truck with him.  
  
“What the hell are we going anyway?” Dean asked and there was nothing but pure hatred in his voice.  
  
Actually hatred. And John wished he knew what he had done to deserve such a strong emotion and he was stubborn enough to decide that he’d be finding that one out before they left the diner that day. He told Dean were they were going in a calm voice and the boy seemed to relax a little, but the tension between them never really gave way.  
  
John figured it never would.  
  
Once at the diner, Dean flirted with every waitress - females and males - just to avoid talking to him. John let it go on for longer than necessarily, he could’ve stopped it by barking at him and shouting death-glares to the waitresses, but he didn’t. But when he saw that Dean didn’t enjoy it and became more and more uncomfortable, John smiled at the manly waitress that totally ignored him ‘til he cleared his throat.  
  
“We’re here to eat.” John said and pointed at their plates, the waitress nodded and said his goodbye. “He should learn what body language actually means.”  
  
That one made Dean laugh, bitterly, but he did laugh and it wasn’t fake. John tried desperately to find the right words now when he was sitting face to face with his oldest son, find the words to tell him just how sorry he was for the mistakes he had done. As the table grew quiet, Dean raised his eyebrows and took a bite of the burger.  
  
“So?” Dean asked and John just had to smile a little.  
  
“So, listen,” John started and grabbed a hold of the burger as well, just to have something to do with his hands. “I know I’ve done some heavy mistakes with you boys and that I’ll never be able to take them back or make the things I’ve done undone. But I want you to know that what I did was wrong and that I’m sorr..” Dean shot him an angry glare and shook his head.  
  
“You don’t get it, do you?” He asked and John had to admit that no, he didn’t get it. “I don’t care for the life of me that you hit me, but it’s not acceptable you say those things about Sam when he understands every little word you use. He may be autistic dad, but he’s smarter than both of us.”  
  
Dean was right and John knew he was. Sam was smarter than any other sixteen years old boy he knew and even if Dean had been a lot more active at the age, Sam was more flexible and the fact that the boy had learned to count at the age of four was a miracle in itself.  
  
“Yeah, maybe so, but I’m still sorry for what I’ve done wrong by you, Dean.” John said and Dean shifted uncomfortably in his chair, looked down at the half eaten burger on his plate and sighed.  
  
“Enough, I get it, okay?” Dean said and looked up at him before he quickly lowered his eyes. “Apology accepted. Just think about what you say and we’ll be fine.” Dean said and John was so proud.  
  
They talked some more, about hunts and school and work and John secretively hide the details of the last hunt from him, afraid the mention would destroy the good mood they both were in. When they got into the truck again, John carefully asked Dean what Sam would like for his birthday that was about six months away.  
  
And by the answer Dean gave him got John to have his first clue as how to get close to his son. The next day, John went to the bookstore and bought all of the Harry Potter books he could find and that night, he started to make a small bond with Sam by reading for him every night before bedtime.  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  
  
Sam got friends. Adam, Ricky, Mike, Hanna, Emma, etc. John never meet them and Dean seemed to be clueless as well. But Sam always had stories to tell by the time he got home from school and he always seemed to be late and he had lots of reasons for that.  
  
They had been at the mall, Sam had gotten a salad from one of his friends, they had been at Adam’s (or was it Mike’s?) dad who owned a pizzeria and they got free food and that was the reason why Sam didn’t eat most of the time when he got home.  
  
None of them reacted to it, they all thought it was good that finally Sam had gotten real friends after what had happened with Theodore and John was proud that Sam seemed to be moving on from it way better than he had thought at first.  
  
Sam and Dean, as a pair, John had witnessed them holding hands and cuddling, but that was about it and John wondered if they had taken things further or not but he doubted it in the way of Dean bringing ‘female friends’ to Jim’s and spent the night at their house.  
  
Sam seemed to have a struggle to accept the fact that his brother was having relationships and John actually worried that he might become jealous, because leading Sam on and then dumping his sorry ass just wasn’t alright in John’s eyes.  
  
But on the other hand, when he was silent and looking, really looking, he could see the confusion and own struggle in Dean’s eyes mixed with a great deal of passion and love whenever Dean looked Sam’s way. And John understood that Dean was struggling to come to terms with his feelings for Sam and the guilt he might be feeling over it.  
  
Sam however didn’t seem to struggle to come to terms with his own feelings and if John was completely honest with himself, he was glad his youngest wasn’t struggling with that upon everything else.  
  
One day, Dean thought Sam went a little too far in the living room and John was in the kitchen so he was able to hear every word. It started out as a ‘no Sammy’ and it just went on like that for minutes of no end until..  
  
“Sam! I said no!” Dean yelled and even if John had been prepared for it, he jumped a little on the chair because Dean’s voice were desperate and frustrated.  
  
“Never know..” The sentence missed words and John wasn’t able to figure out what the fight was about. “Sam never know that.”  
  
The silence were heavy and John wondered if Dean had given in against his will and was just about to get up and check on them when a heavy groan was heard and it wasn’t made of enjoyment but annoyance and then Dean said;  
  
“You’re too young, Sam. And Jim wouldn’t ever accept you to watch that shit under his roof.”  
  
Huh? What the heck? John had thought Sam had went too far with the cuddling in the living room, maybe grabbed Dean somewhere he didn’t feel comfortable enough to be grabbed at and.. But that wasn’t the issue. The issue was.. porn..?  
  
“Not roof.” Sam said and John could almost see him turn on the stubborn look of his. “In living room!”  
  
John really had to bit down on his lower lip so as not to laugh out loud at that. Sam and his way of hearing things just got a little too much sometimes. Too much and funny as hell. Only, Sam didn’t realize it and damn the one who dared to laugh, because then a fit was right on cue and you’d regret ever laughing then.  
  
“Sam, stop it.” Dean said and John frowned, his voice sounded pleading and frustrated. “Aw damn, I hate it when you look at me like that.” And John knew it was just seconds before Dean would give in.  
  
“Puppy kicked.” Sam said, sounded sad and stubborn and John laughed quietly into the palm of his hand. “Dean said.”  
  
“Alright!” Dean yelled and John nearly lost it right there. “Stop looking at me like that and I’ll try to convince Jim about it.”  
  
John knew the Pastor wouldn’t argue too much about it, too much aware of Jim’s own needs that had nothing with God to do and John knew that his best friend would accept it. No matter which words Dean chose to use, Jim would accept it.  
  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  
Two months before Sam’s birthday, Jim sat John down at the table in the kitchen after Sam had been tucked to bed and Dean sneaked out of the house.  
  
“Tell me what’s going on, Johnny.” Jim said and John narrowed his eyes in confusion. “Tell me what happened on the hunt.”  
  
Right. The hunt. Matter was, John hadn’t been hunting since the visit of Satan and he doubted he’d ever be able to go back. Jim looked like he already knew and some parts of John knew that he did, Bobby had probably already told him months ago. And John told him, detail by detail.  
  
“Do you remember the ritual I did on the boys when you got here?” Jim asked after half an hour of John informing him about what the devil had said.  
  
“Yeah?” John said and nodded, the memory was blurry but he did remember it.  
  
John had been so deep in his own grief at the time that he didn’t really remember anything of the first weeks after Mary died, but he remembered Jim telling him about the ritual but he never really understood it and he never asked about it and Jim never told him. Now he did however and John was more than interested in knowing what was going on.  
  
“I made the ritual because I wanted to protect the both of them from what could’ve been their destiny, Johnny. Turned out I didn’t really need to with Sammy, because his autism was so severe that not even Satan would put a hand on him, any less claim him.” Jim said and smiled.  
  
“What are you talking about? Lucifer said..” Jim put a hand on John’s shoulder and squeezed it lightly.  
  
“He lied, Sammy was born with his autism. Lucifer lied because he realized he had made a mistake with Sam and wanted to protect his own plan from you. And I think he did the right thing there.”  
  
John nodded slowly, deep down he had always known Sam was born with his disability, but a part of him still wanted to have someone to blame, so he had accepted Lucifer’s lies as the truth and had blamed him for what Sam was going through. But frankly, there was no one to blame and John had to learn to accept that as the truth.  
  
“What plans? And what did they do to Sammy that night?” John asked and Jim sighed deeply.  
  
“They’re planning an army, I know the YED told you about that.” Jim was as stubborn as John on that matter, never calling the YED by his actual name. “And that night, he poured his own blood in Sam’s mouth. And before you ask, I don’t know what might happen when Sam gets older, but for now I don’t think we’ve anything to worry about.”  
  
Right. Uh, wait a sec, what the..?  
  
“But.. He’s a demon! I mean, Sam was feed demon blood which will make him..” John said but Jim raised his hand and shook his head to silent him.  
  
“Like I said, his autism protected him from that and the ritual I did on him protected him from that. There’s nothing to worry about so far.” Jim said and John could see that the Pastor believed his own words.  
  
And John had no reason to doubt him either. Only, he did. Very much.  
  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  
Two weeks after Sam’s seventeenth birthday, John was on a werewolf hunt only to have it cancelled and given it up to another hunter who’d pick up where he left off because family was way more important than finishing a job and the urgent call from Pastor Jim told him to head home immediately and he did. It was Sam. Sam, who had just turned seventeen, had collapsed in gym class and the doctor wouldn’t say anything until John got there.  
  
Dean had a right to knew, John told himself, because they were brothers and the doc had never done this before, keeping facts from Dean but now it seemed different and it took John half a day to get there on a drive that would’ve taken him three days usually, he speeded the truck as much as he could and once he got out of the car and headed into the hospital, he gave a ratass about his odor of sweat.  
  
He just needed to ask the nurse once and then he was manhandled to doctors office. When he was sitting down - pretty much against his will - the doctor smiled sadly at him and opened Sam’s file, eyed it for a second or so before she looked up at him again.  
  
“Have you noticed that Sam has lost any weight the last couple months?” The doc asked and John raised his eyebrows.  
  
“Of course I have, he’s growing and every boy lose the baby-fat around sixteen.” John said and the doctor nodded thoughtfully but the sad expression didn’t fade.  
  
“I’m afraid your son suffers from anorexia and bulimia, John, and it‘s very important you understand how dangerous this is.” The doctor said and John lost his temper completely.  
  
“Use English for fuck sake!” He yelled and the doctor didn’t react like any other human being would, she just blinked up at him and shook her head.  
  
“It’s eating disorders, Sir.” That one last mentioned word got him to understand that she had in fact reacted, and then..  
  
“Eating disorders? But he’s a boy!”  
  
“Many people react that way, John. But boys is just as high risk as girls, especially the ones that struggle with homosexuality.” John shook his head rapidly, tried to get the info to sink down.  
  
Then it hit him like a low blow to his stomach, the lunatic doctor tried to get him to understand the real deal of the disorders when she herself didn’t get it at all. Sure, he got that guys went through it as well, but not because they were homosexual, that couldn’t be the only reason, John figured, because Sam wasn’t struggling with his sexuality, he was secure and fine about who he was and John knew this too damn well.  
  
“You’ve got twenty minutes to find another doctor for Sam. Someone who understands that my son is comfortable with himself as gay.” John said and the doctor opened her mouth but John looked down at his wristwatch and added; “Eighteen minutes to be exact.” He looked up at the still unmoving doctor. “Now!”  
  
Sam wasn’t comfortable meeting new people, he greatly disliked it but John wouldn’t have any of this shit thrown at him, because Sam deserved more credit and the doctor was finally moving. John got out of her office and paced the corridor for a few minutes until Dean and Jim showed up.  
  
“What’s wrong with him? Have you talked to the doctor yet? Why won’t they tell me anything? Dad?” Dean asked, mouth running a mile by the second and John raised his hand and shook his head.  
  
“You two will be in the room when..” John said and saw as the doctor came back with a male doctor by her side. “Now.”  
  
The new doctor introduced himself as Nick Brown, specialist on eating disorder in males and asked the family to sit down before the desk as he opened Sam’s file, the same file the other doc had eyed through and this doctor looked more worried than the last one had.  
  
“It says here that Sam has autism and that he’s gay.” The doctor said and John opened his mouth to intrude but the doctor quickly added; “His eating disorder however has nothing to do with his homosexuality.”  
  
“Sam has an eating disorder? But he isn’t that thin!” Dean said in a doubting voice and the doc Nick smiled sadly.  
  
“He has lost half of his body mass already and from what I can see, he’s all bones.” Nick said and eyed the papers some more before he looked at John. “I want to make sure that none of you blame yourself for what’s happening to Sam at this point, you’ve got no control over it.”  
  
“But he’s eating. We all have seen it.” Jim said and both John and Dean agreed.  
  
“Yeah, he’s eating when he has to.” The doctor nodded and sighed a little. “Have any of you noticed him disappearing after a meal?”  
  
John nodded thoughtfully and he could see that both Jim and Dean did as well, but none of them had any idea as to what that had to do with any of it and the doctor smiled understandingly towards all of them, no pity, just pure worry on his side.  
  
“When he has to eat, when he has got no lie to come up with, he’s making himself sick and gets rid of the food that way.” The doctor said and nodded towards them. “And for the unnoticed weight loss, he used things to stuff his clothes with, like towels and such.”  
  
Doctor Nick gave the file to John for him to read it through, but before he could even start, Dean grabbed it out of his hands and read it for himself first. John wanted to bark at him, but stayed calm, he knew this was killing his oldest son and he let him be at the moment. Once he got the file back, he read it as well.  
  
_The patient was taken to the hospital by ambulance at 11.40 on Wednesday morning after a violent collapse where the patient had fainted and remained unconscious for the rest of the ride to the hospital.  
  
The patient’s a seventeen year old male with autism and the doctor’s careful with the boy in case he’d wake up confused as to where he is. The patient looks just as healthy as he has always done, a little chubby maybe but healthy.  
  
The nurses undress him so the doctor can listen to his heart and lungs and that’s when the major discovery of towels are done. The patient has wrapped five towels around his chest and abdomen and when those are taken off, the hospital stuff discover the bone knots that looks like it‘d break out of the too tight skin any time soon.  
  
Taking his weight and the doctor suspect he’s suffering with a eating disorder.  _  
  
**Well damn.**  
  
Dean was outright sobbing, Jim tried to calm him down and John was put against the wall, wondering what the hell he could possible do to prevent it from ever happening again and why the heck hadn’t he seen it? He should’ve seen it, had was Sam’s dad after all and..  
  
“Are you ready to see him? It can be a shock to you to see him like thi..” Dean got up from the chair, dried his tears and nodded rapidly.  
  
“Take me to him.”  
  
The doctor did. Once they were in Sam’s room, they found him sleeping peacefully in the bed in a private room and doctor Nick Brown left them alone with Sam for as long as they wanted, but reminded John to contact him before they went home.  
  
Even before the doctor was out the door, Dean was climbing up the bed and put himself protectively to Sam’s side, Sam turned in his sleep and flung an arm around Dean’s middle and Dean pulled in a shocked breath when he did the same.  
  
John could see the boney ribcage from where he stood and he had to sit down before he totally lost it and once he was sitting, he couldn’t stop the angry tears from rolling down his face and as they did, Sam blinked his eyes open and looked at him directly with a frown.  
  
“Dad sad.” He said and looked up at Dean, John couldn’t see from where he sat if they made eye contact but he doubted it. “Why?”  
  
Dean ran his fingers through Sam’s hair and nuzzled his neck and John could hear the small kissing sounds but didn’t say anything about it, instead he desperately tried to whip at his tears but to no use. Then Sam asked again and Dean answered him.  
  
“Dad’s sad because Sam’s sick.” Dean said in a low voice and Sam blinked at John before he looked up at Dean again.  
  
“Yeah, Sam autism.” That was the first time John heard Sam say it right and according to Dean’s facial expression, it was the first for him too.  
  
“No, dad’s not sad about that, Sammy.” Dean said and kissed Sam’s nose, making Sam laugh a little. “Why did you stop eating?”  
  
That made Sam’s laugh die out and he turned his face away from Dean and he pulled in a deep breath through his mouth and that seemed to be all he was going to give. Well, fuck that! John got up from the chair, ready to scream the place quiet but Jim grabbed him by the shoulder and pulled him down on the chair again, face very close to John’s own and he would’ve been blind if he didn’t see the warning right there.  
  
“Shut the hell up, Winchester.” The Pastor hissed at him in a low voice only John was able to hear and John wanted to argue but Jim just squeezed his elbow tightly and John shut up against his will.  
  
Sam didn’t speak anymore but that didn’t stop Dean from talking and to John’s dismissal, the boy didn’t talk to Sam about the eating disorder, but he talked about the school and how much he missed being there and etc. Sam ignored him most of the time, but sometimes he huffed out a sigh or a sound that sounded like a giggle and that was proof enough he chose to hear the things he wanted to.  
  
Once they had to say goodbye and head home, John and Jim went out of the room to leave the boys in private for a few minutes and decided to go talk to the doctor while they waited. Nick nodded to them as they entered his office and said;  
  
“I want to admit Sam to the closed compartment here on the hospital for the patients that struggle with eating disorders.”  
  
“No way in hell am I leaving my autistic son to someone he doesn’t know. He doesn’t belong here, he’s going home.” John said and the doctor sighed and looked at Jim for help.  
  
“I agree completely with John about this, Sir. Sam’s autism makes it difficult for him to trust people and if we agree with this, Sam will never be able to trust any of us again.” Jim said and the doctor nodded thoughtfully.  
  
“It won’t be easy..” John interrupted him.  
  
“Nothing ever is. So tell me, what do I have to do?”  
  
The doctor informed him about the topics of how to keep a close watch on Sam when he was eating, never leaving the table before he had eaten the all the food on the plate and he even gave a few prescriptions of food to use and how much motion Sam needed and to watch him closely so he wouldn’t be able to overdo it.  
  
It wasn’t easy, but John was determined it’d work. They would get through it together. The doctor still wanted Sam to stay overnight and John accepted that because Sam seemed well aware that they were leaving.  
  
Dean had other ideas however and he barked into the office and ordered the doctor to get an extra bed in Sam’s room because there was no way in hell he’d leave his brother alone in a hospital when he knew just how much hospitals scared Sam. After much convincing and pleas and orders, Dean got his wish meet, John and Jim went home to a silent house and was happy it’d just last one night.  
  
Because a silent house weren’t the house they both knew and loved. Sam was going to get better and John had decided that.  
  
Well, sometimes his decisions failed.


	6. The end (not really)

John had been prepared it’d be difficult and it’d hurt all of them more than a few times, but he had never expected it to be like that. The day Sam came home from the hospital, he shut down completely and it almost looked like he was back at the age of twelve. He had tantrums that literally shook the whole house, made a few pictures fall to the floor, caused a mirror to explode and scared the living shit out of John.  
  
Sam had been home for three days and John hadn’t been able to feed Sam anything but a banana and a strawberry smoothie and that was about it. And water, lots and lots of water. A drink John knew his youngest son had never drank on his free will before and it was scary, that much John had to admit to himself, the fact that his seventeen year old son become nothing but bones was extremely scary to witness.  
  
By the time it was time for dinner the fourth day, Dean was late from work and Jim was in the next town, meeting the girlfriend of his and that left John alone with his youngest son and he’d be damned if he'd let the opportunity pass. John made the table, then he got up the stairs to Sam’s room, knocked once, and walked through the door without waiting for a respond. _Unfortunately._  
  
“It’s dinnerti.. Uuh..” John quickly turned around and heard Sam practically fall on his ass.  
  
If it had been Dean he had walked in on doing _that_ , he would’ve laughed it off as hormones and adrenaline. Walking in on Sam masturbate on the other hand felt awkward and weird, because John hadn’t thought Sam would start doing that ‘til he was around at least thirty.  
  
Well, he had read otherwise, of course, in the books Dean brought home when Sam had gotten the diagnose and it was clear in those books that most teens with autism was a lot more open and secure about their sexuality. Sure, John knew Sam was comfortable being gay and all that, but he hadn’t figured the books actually meant this.  
  
“It’s dinnertime.” John tried again, cleared his throat some and turned around to see Sam still on the floor with the jeans still down his ankles.  
  
“Not hungry.” Sam said and John raised his eyebrows, that was the first words Sam had spoken since getting home four days ago.  
  
“Want a hand?” John asked and reached his hand down to him and Sam looked at it for a bit, then down at his own hands and made a grimace at one then he put the other in John’s and John was grateful.  
  
Sam reached down once he got up from the floor and almost fell over again but John stopped the fall by gripping his shoulder lightly and pulled up the jeans for Sam’s benefit. When he straightened up again, John couldn’t possible miss the blush on Sam’s cheeks even if he might’ve wanted to.  
  
They went down to the kitchen together, John had done the Jambalaya with fat sausages and rice with much oil and just a tiny salad on the side, just like the doctor had ordered. Sam made a face as he sat down at the table and John wondered not for the first time what exactly had caused this side of Sam to come through.  
  
He filled Sam’s plate even if the boy could do it himself, filled the glass with milk as well and when he had done that, John filled his own plate and glass. When he had eaten up his own food, he noticed that Sam hadn’t even touched his yet and a fire of frustration burned his insides. Why the hell wasn’t the boy eating?  
  
“Eat the food, Sam.” John said and Sam startled on the chair and looked up at him, made eye contact and John could see the pleading eyes that was also covered in confusion. “You’re not leaving the table ‘til you’ve eaten the food.”  
  
“Not half an hour later.” Sam said and sighed, John knew exactly what he meant.  
  
After the food was eaten, Sam wouldn’t be allowed to leave the table for yet another half an hour, to prevent him throwing the food back up. But John was just as stubborn as Sam and he’d be damned if he didn’t start to show it soon, it might be too late by then and John knew it too well.  
  
It took Sam three hours, five tantrums and by the time Sam was finally done, the whole kitchen were a mess and Sam looked panicked and anxiety and his face pleaded with John but John knew the deal and he steeled himself, because he was older, wiser and knew what was best - most of the time anyway.  
  
“Please daddy.” That one word, daddy, hadn’t been used in years and it sent sparks of pain to John’s heart.  
  
“No Sammy. You stay here ‘til it’s been half an hour.” John said and Sam looked down at the floor and sighed.  
  
 And that was around the time when his hazel eyes went wide as he saw the mess on the floor, the broken plates, the glasses, the pans and the frying pan that was upside down. Sam looked at it for at least ten minutes, then he looked back up at John with shocked eyes.  
  
“A mess.” He said in a voice that portrayed disgust, surprise and confusion. “No me-me-mess before.”  
  
That was when John heard it. His son was actually talking. Not just repeating voices and having a trouble getting his true words out correctly, there were some words and letters missed in a sentence, but he was actually talking and getting the words out. Even if there was a slight stutter, it was at least a huge step forward.  
  
And then the finality of the things that had started to change and Sam finally noticing it. John had no idea how to explain it to him, but he decided he could at least try. _Somehow_. Sam was still looking at him, not quite in the eyes, but close enough to make John proud.  
  
“Do you remember the mirror that exploded yesterday?” John asked and it didn’t take long for Sam to nod. “When you get angry, son, it causes the chaos inside of you to break out. The world can’t handle it and that’s,” John pointed at the mess on the floor. “what happens.”  
  
Sam looked at the floor again with a confused frown on his face and John wondered if he had chosen the wrong words to use or if this topic was way too hard for Sam to understand. Then the confused expression on Sam’s face turned into anger and he looked back up at John.  
  
“You and De always angry.” Sam said in stubbornness and John ducked his head as he smiled, the boy was right. “Never happens.”  
  
Even if it made John very happy to hear Sam speak like that and being able to use the words much freer now, he still wondered how it could happen to one day to the other. But then again, John might not have paid enough attention and might’ve been unaware for a long time.  
  
“Do you remember Missouri? The black woman we visited a few times before you turned fifteen?” John asked and Sam looked at him like he was stupid which made John laugh, _who could forget her_? “She has the same abilities as you’ve Sam. You got ‘em the night your mom died.”  
  
John had had conversations with Sam before, but never any of them had went as easily as this one. The boy was talking back like he hadn’t ever done before and even if he forgot a few words here and there, he still made himself enough understood that John understood him. When had that happened?  
  
“Demon.” Sam said out of the blue and John’s eyes widened in shock before he yet again remembered and calmed down.  
  
Sam had by accident found John’s journal a few years back and hadn’t made a big deal out of it. Sure, he had been scared, but when John had promised he’d be extra careful, Sam had calmed down and they hadn’t talked about it ever since.  
  
“Yeah, the demon that killed Dean's and your mom also hurt you, Sammy. I don’t know much about it, but it’s said that you were given the abilities so you’d be able to..” John didn’t want to put this heavy burden on Sam. “protect yourself.” So he lied instead.  
  
Sam seemed to think it over in his head for a few minutes, his eyes going clouded the way they do when he got thoughtful and then he smiled, looked at the clock above the fridge and his chin dropped. John looked as well and he found himself surprised too.  
  
It was almost an hour since Sam had eaten up and Sam looked happy but bothered at the same time by that, but didn’t say anything. He got up from the table, with a clumsy hand he ruffled John’s hair like Dean did to Sam’s and John couldn’t help but laugh out loud. Sam joined him.  
  
Half an hour after that, Sam was in the living room, watching some series on the TV and Dean walked through the door, John was still in the kitchen, had just made coffee and when Dean went into the kitchen, he grabbed the cup John had just poured up to himself.  
  
“Eey!” John protested but poured up another cup instead. “I’ve got news.” John said and Dean looked at him with raised eyebrows, waiting for him to continue. “Sam’s talking.”  
  
“Eeh, he has been for years, dad.” Dean said the obvious and John couldn’t help but groan out loud, then he said;  
  
“I mean really talking, like, he doesn’t forget as many words anymore.”  
  
Dean looked at him for a long moment of time, raised eyebrows and a relaxed body language, then he brought up the cup to his mouth and swallowed what was left of the coffee, never breaking the eye contact he had with John. He slowly lowered the cup to the sink and smiled as he straightened up some.  
  
“I know.” He said and went into the living room, leaving John there dumbfounded and feeling stupid.  
  
But of course Dean would knew. He always did.  
  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  
Every day was a struggle for the Winchesters to get the youngest family member to eat, even Jim thought it was difficult and the mess it caused made it just worse for the Pastor since he had to buy new plates for each time Sam had a violent fit but none of them got angry at him, because it wasn’t his fault, Sam couldn’t control his abilities yet.  
  
And none of them were sure if he ever would.  
  
But impressively, the mess that was made never really hurt any of them bodily. Sure, John got a piece of glass in the palm of his hand once, but that was his own fault because he touched Sam just as the boy had a violent tantrum and got knocked down to the ass. To protect his other body parts, John had landed on his hands and toes and from there he got a piece of glass in his hand.  
  
Dean seemed to be a little freaked out, but instead of escaping the scene and getting laid like he had done for the past seven years, he stayed at home to keep Sam calm since he was the only one who could touch Sam when he was having a tantrum and calm him down, comfort him the way John couldn’t.  
  
It had been two months since the time in the hospital and Sam was slowly but surely gaining weight. And that day it was time to have a check up with the new doctor that treated Sam for the eating disorders, Nick Brown and John was somewhat worried.  
  
John was worried that Sam’s weight hadn’t approved some even if it looked that way and Dean had told him it had every time after Sam had weighted himself. It was only Dean who got to look at Sam’s scale results and John knew it was more than trust and brotherhood but he wasn’t worried, he knew the boys took great care of one another.  
  
Sam had to be fasted when he got to the hospital, he didn’t even got to drink water since the scale could show the wrong result by then and that was exactly what got John to worry. Sam had lied before about his weight, found information of what to do and he could’ve picked up some other tricks too and John wished he was wrong.  
  
Once at the hospital parking lot - John took the truck and Sam and Dean took the Impala - he waited for the boys to park as well, then when Sam got out, they walked side by side into the hospital. Sam looked worried and sad but not as anxiety as he had the time they left the hospital.  
  
“Sam’s hungry.” Sam said and the point was proved when Sam’s stomach grumbled. “Really fucking horny too.”  
  
John’s eyes got wide and Dean laughed at the words that had came out from nowhere and god, but wasn’t this period of time really getting.. eeh.. Difficult. Because Sam always said what he felt at the moment, never leaving any detail out of the picture and he didn’t see how wrong that could be sometimes.  
  
John opened his mouth to tell him that but Dean shot him a warning glare and John shut his mouth, knew it was better to keep quiet for his own well-being. Dean whispered something in Sam’s ear a few minutes after that and John watched as Sam blushed and looked down at the floor.  
  
He wouldn’t ever want to know just what Dean had said right there in front of him.  
  
When they got to the nurse station, John reported them there and then they had to sit down and wait for about twenty minutes that turned itself into only seven and Sam was back at being outright about his troubles of being.. filled with hormones.  
  
“Well,” Doctor Brown said and laughed, the strangers in the waiting room looked at Sam with wide and shocked eyes but the doctor ignored them. “that's totally normal.”  
  
They walked into the examination, Sam sat down on the stretcher without being told, knowing full well what to do. The doc listened to Sam’s heart and lungs as Dean and John sat in the far corner and observed every move the doctor did, just to make sure the guy wouldn’t accidentally hurt Sam.  
  
He didn’t.  
  
“How have you been eating those past weeks, Sam?” The doctor asked and Sam looked at the T-shirt in his hands and started to rock some.  
  
“Not.. Not wanting to.” Sam mumbled, then he looked up at John. “Dad.. he made me with food.” Then the eyes got unfocused and he looked down at the T-shirt again and smiled a little. “Think it good.”  
  
The words that went missing was easy to fill in and John smiled and Dean squeezed John’s shoulder in gratitude. Neither one of them had been prepared to hear Sam said that, to actually praise something John did for once and John quickly whipped at his cheeks that hadn’t started to get wet yet, thank god.  
  
The doctor talked a little bit more with Sam, asked questions, joked with him and laughed when Sam tried to joke back. Then it was time for the real deal and Sam looked up at him, face pulled into a concerned frown and his tall body was still too skinny and the bones showed themselves clearly, both ribcage and the hipbones was looking sharp and ugly but not as horrible as the first day.  
  
“Out dad.” Sam said and John wanted to protest but both the doctor and Dean nodded to John to do what Sam was telling him to and John had no other choice then leave the room.  
  
A short while later, Dean opened the door and told John it was okay to come back inside and John did. The doctor explained that yeah, Sam had gained in weight and that it did look a lot better than doctor Nick first thought possible. But the danger wasn’t gone just yet.  
  
Might in fact never be.  
  
But they had done it, Sam had gained and there was no way in hell John would ever let his son down again. He’d rather die than watch Sammy shrinkage again.  
  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  
Sam was eating willingly again, if not more salad than usual but he was at least eating without huge tantrums that’d cause danger to the kitchen furniture, but Sam still had his fits and things still got smashed into walls and destroyed and exploded into tiny pieces but Sam was talking and communicating the normal way and that was all that mattered.  
  
John had just been on a hunt and at the moment he was sitting in the living room, watching TV in the quiet house. Jim was in the church, having a communion for the night and the note on the kitchen table was from Dean and Sam, telling Jim they went to a movie.  
  
And yeah, John knew they were more or less dating for real at the moment, because they couldn’t help but touch one another all the time, always found excuses and ways to brush fingers through hair or just holding one another’s hand.  
  
A normal father would’ve been disgusted and separated them a long time ago. But John wasn’t normal, not a bit, he was a Winchester and he could actually see how cute they were together. They fit. Oh yeah, they did.  
  
He didn’t think so however when Sam went down the stairs a few minutes later, half-naked with only a pair of jeans hung low on his skinny hips, star eyed, flushed face and his lips were red and swollen. Dean was right behind him, looked just as fucked out and both of them stopped in mid-step to stare at him and John stared right back.  
  
“Dad, it‘s..” John witnessed in amusement and surprise as Sam turned his head to the side and John knew he was glaring at his big brother.  
  
“Dean, for once, just shut the hell up!”  
  
All three of them fell silent and Sam gasped and his face was covered in the hugest of smile. John couldn’t for the life of him re-find the anger in himself and he knew whatever the boys had done up there earlier, had been a breakthrough for Sam’s autism.  
  
The autism was still there, of course, circling around in Sam’s mind, system and body.  
  
But he had finally broken through his shell.  
  
  
  
  
  
 **The End**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, for you who liked this story, there's another one coming up, and that's the one that tells the story from Sam's point of view.


End file.
